Gossip's worth it's weight in Gold
by guiltypleasureffnet
Summary: No one needs gossip in their lives, yet it is easy to become embroiled in a scandal when the world of buisness collides with scorned lovers and old flames. A story of reconciliation, friendship and deceit. Mixture of Kay, ALW, Laroux dependant on how it all fits in and progresses
1. I: The Journey

It had been two days since Meg had found reprieve from the dull ache behind her eyes, and that was the warn orange glow and amber light of a few small candles. The warm glow didn't sting her eyes like the harsh white light of the electric lamps, instead it enabled her to venture out of her room into the shared living space.

Meg's headache had been steadily growing worse with every passing day since they had boarded the God forsaken ship. She had been in good health that day, albeit slightly melancholy at the prospect of leaving France, but she was suffering from no disceranable ailments or complaints. It had been within the first day of their passage that the headache - alongside a constant feeling of nausea - had began to form. Initially she had brushed it off believing the change in climate to be the root cause - and firmly believe that once her body and mind adjusted to the smell and air of the open water she would be fine, but with the pain now preventing her from sleeping she was becoming more concerned.

It was the lack of sleep that drew her to the shared living space. During the day she avioded the communal space, often opting to remained curled on her bed with the shutters and curtains closed in a feeble attempt to grab an hour - or even a few minutes - of sleep. Her mother had taken to berrating her through the door for her anti-social behaviour, claiming that it was unbecoming of a young lady to shut herself away from social occasions, especially when they were dining in the first class restaurant, only for the ballet mistress to hear whimpering and words of illness in response.

Meg loved her mother dearly, and although she had been a stern ballet mistress her mothering of Meg had always been gentle and kind; Meg knew that her mother's shrill voice through the door was really one of concern, and that she had been trying to appeal to her daughter's desire to be treated as an adult and not a child, but in practise the shirllness would cause Meg to cower in pain. Meg hated that the sound of her mother's voice was having an overwhelmingly negative effect on her wellbeing - each time Antoinette Giry would call through the door the young ballet dancer would retreat further under her sheets in an attempt to block out the noise. On several occasions she had tried to explain to her mother that she wasn't being anti-social or ignoring decorum out of spite or want, she was doing it because she simply couldn't face the harsh light of day.

Without the harsh light of day to sting her eyes and exacerbate her headache Meg found the shared living space quite appealing. Over the nights she had sat in the dark velvet wing-backed chair she had admired the deep mahogany panelled walls, artisic drapings depicting scenes from classical literature and large windows proving a clear view across the ocean. As she had spent most of her childhood living in Opera Populaire's boarding house, she found travelling first class on an ocean liner to be unsettling. She wasn't accustomed to such grandeur, and the thought of interacting with others upon this deck made her stomach churn; she didn't know how to act around the ladies of the bourgeois and even her interactions with Christine, who had been her closest friend and confidante, had dwindled following the announcement of her engagement to Vicomte Raoul de Chagny.

Since the events of Don Juan Triumphant Christine had become increasingly distant from Meg, and had spent all of her time in the company of Raoul. Of course, Meg was very happy that her friend had found love - especially after the awful events in the catacombs beneath the threatre - but she was slightly resentful of Christine's increasing distance and even though her mother had warned her about the inevitable demands being placed upon the future Vicomtess Meg had believed - possibly niavely - that wealth and status would not change her childhood friend.

Before she had started her journey Meg found the darkness of the night bleak and frightening, but since her headache had begun its onslaught she had found it soothing. She took several deep breaths before opening her eyes, hoping that the silence and the darkness would be enough to allow sleep to consume her. Instead when she opened her eyes noticed a bottle of Vin Marinani and a whisky glass on the small end table next to her. Meg's eyes darted around the room in panic - she was certain the bottle had not been there when she had sat down - but she saw no one and nothing untoward.

With her mind at ease she put her oversight down to the low light and her overwhelming fatigue, before carefully opening the bottle and pouring herself a large glass.

The young dancer couldn't recall the last time she had taken Vin Marinani - she had always found its taste too bitter and had previously found that it made her feel lightheaded - but she knew it would help ease her headache and lift her spirits, so she raised the glass to her lips. The cool crystal met her bottom lip she caught a glimpse of a dark shadow moving in the corner of her eye, causing her to freeze. She spoke quietly, not much more than a whisper, "Monsiour, I know you are here. I merely wish to thank you for the Vin Marinani - nothing more".

The room remained silent. Meg turned back to the small end table and picked up her glass. With one gulp she drank the mixture, causing her to flinch and recoil in response to the disgusting taste. After shaking off the uncomfortable feeling the young dancer headed to her room.

\--xXx--

The next night Meg had decided she would attempt to read, which was something she hadn't managed to acomplish since boarding the ship. The Vin Marinani had helped soothe her sore head and settle her stomach, eventually allowing her to sleep, and she wanted to thank the Phantom for sourcing the elixir.

When Meg entered the room she found it was unchanged - save the bottle of Vin Marinani and the whisky glass on the table. She couldn't help but smile at its unassuming presence - partially due to its ability to aliviate her ailments, and partially because it was an unsolicited gift from a gentleman. Granted, Meg didn't really consider the Opera Ghost to be a gentleman - far from it infact - but his apparent wealth (shown by their current residence in a first class stateroom on an ocean liner) would mean she could openly tell potential suitors that she had recieved gifts from a gentleman 'friend' without technically lying.

She placed her book on the sidetable next to the crushed velvet wing-tipped chair and made her way to the drinks cabinet. She hadn't been particulary fussed by the book, but Christine had recommended it prior to her engagement - when they still shared a closeness that resembled a sisterly bond - and she had promised herself that she would discover why Mr. Rochester had entranced her friend.

Meg carefully decanted some whisky into a small glass, unsure of the normal measure taken by the bourgeoisie. She was certain that the Opera Ghost was somewhere in the room because she could feel his presence in the air. When Christine had first spoken of "feeling" her angel of music's presence in the air Meg had found the notion ridiculous and childish, especially as she describe the feeling as "electric yet opressive". But since encouting the Opera Ghost on a semi-regular basis she had come to understand the meaning behind her friend's words.

Of course, the Opera Ghost had barely spoken two words to her for the duration of their journey, save a few pleasentaries while she helped her mother smuggle him to Calais and across la Manche to England. That was why she had found the appearance of the Vin Marinani surprising; her mother had told her snippets of the man's past, including his ability to understand medicine and surgery, so it was possible that he had a bottle among his belongings, but even so, giving it to her freely seemed uncharacteristicly caring and friendly.

"Please join me monsiour", she said holding the glass of whisky in her hand.

"I am glad it has helped mademoiselle" came a disemobied voice, "and I am thankful for the offer, however it is unseemly for a young woman to drink with a man alone". Erik didn't refer to himself a 'gentleman', for he knew he wasn't one. He wasn't going to insult Meg's intelligence by comparing himself to ordinary men - his previous actions showed he was anything but - a true gentleman didn't lurk in shadows, didn't pretend to be an angel, kidnap young women, or pretend to be the ghost of a deceased relative.

Meg knew his observation about drinking with him alone to be true, but no one would know, and although he was far from harmless she knew he owed her mother a great deal and that meant he wouldnt hurt her. "It can be said that only those with unseemly minds see unseemly things" she replied with a smile.

Erik was slightly taken a back by Meg's sharpness and found himself momentarily unable to respond. Of all the years he had known Antoinette Giry he had barely given her daughter the time of day, he had seen her as an annoyance - she was the product of Antoinette's marriage to that awful man and someone who could get in the way of his relationship with Christine - and worst of all she had a bizarre fascination with the stories of the Opera Ghost. It had been that fascination which had led her to spend time in the company of the lecherous Joseph Buquet, which had forced Erik to take action to protect her and the other ballet and chorus girls from his unwanted advances.

"Very well" Meg muttered as she crossed the room and placed the whisky on the small desk resting against the wall. She stood momentarily wondering what she should do next before sitting at the table. As soon as she sat a tall and imposing figure joined her, his masked side of his face facing away from her so that the dim orange light only showed his unruined profile.

During the last few months Meg had never really looked at the man sitting next to her - she had been terrified of what she might see and the anger she might invoke, yet - as she looked at him now she noticed his untouched side was quite handsome - and if he hadn't been deformed he probably would be a world renowned composer and renasissance man.

The young ballerina furrowed her brow as she considered how this man had changed her life, and how strange it was that her mother had known him for decades unbeknowst to herself. She recalled that night several months ago; the night that had changed everything.

Meg had returned home from the Opera populaire cold, exhaisted and dirty from having trapsed through the catacombs and cellars beneath the opera house; all she wanted was to wash, change her clothes and doze sitting infront of the hearth. Even in her wildest dreams she wouldn't have imagined the scene she found when she entered the apartment she shared with her mother; sitting in front of the fire with glasses of port in their repective hands were Antoinette Giry and the Phantom. Meg hadscreamed and staggered backwards with her mother moving swiftly to grasped her daughter's her hands while speaking of decorum in her ear.

Antoinette Giry's explanation of the current situation was certainly lacking. Meg understood that her mother and the Phantom had known eachother since childhood and that he had vanished after her mother had married, only to return some three years prior to the events of Don Juan Triumphant. She had explained to Meg that she had been the one who had given Raoul directions to the Ghost's underground lair meaning she felt partially responsible for the Victomte's decisions and the heated pursuit of the mob. She felt like she needed to make ammends.

Although Meg had automatically defended her mother's decision to aide Raoul becuse she knew her mother had Christine's personal safety at heart, Antoinette Giry raised her hand to indicate the conversation had ended. Meg had tried to press the issue of her mother's friendship with Erik several more times, but the only respinse she ever recieved was "it is not my story to tell".

Meg was pulled from her memories by the smooth voice of her companion, "Your mother said you have been suffering from a headache and nausea",

"I have. Although I am certain mother thinks I am inventing such ailments to aviod society luncheon".

"You are incorrect", his tone seemed firm and authoritative, yet somehow wispful, "your mother believes it is meloncholy brought on by leaving France". He paused as though waiting for confirmation or denial, but Meg remained silent. "It is not." he continued, "you are suffering from motion sickness. It is quite common and easily cured, however staying in your room and not venturing to the sundeck will not aide your recovery".

Meg lets out an audable and visual sigh. She knows her mother has coerced her friend into doing her bidding. There would be little she could do or say that would appease the Opera Ghost - she knew that -as she had witnessed his temper first hand.l, so she knew it was best to comply. She searched her mind for a plausible excuse and opted for, "The light stings my eyes". A feeble excuse, but at least it wasn't a lie.

"Then you shall go at night".

Meg decided that it was best not to engage in such a debate or argument, instead she opted to attempt to distract him in hopes that it might cause him to let her avoidance slide. Meg glanced towards the untouched whisky glass in front of him, "don't you not like whisky?"

"I do. However this measure would cause me to lose control of my senses" he spoke in a slightly jovial tone - one Meg had never heard or considered possible coming from the Opera Ghost - gesturing to the glass in front of him. In her innocence and inexperience Meg had filled the glass nearly to the brim, which was something Erik seemed to find ammusing.

"I am sorry Monsiour, I have very little experience with alchoholic beverages except wine", she said meekly, raising from her seated position, "I merely wanted to thank you for your kindness and didn't mean to offend you"

"I am not offended". Meg nodded and turned away indicating she was going to retire for the night, "let me accompany you to the sundeck tomorrow night. At this hour there will not be other guests, and the fresh air will help with your sickness".

\--xXx--

Meg was unsure of why she had inially agreed to their midnight walks - but she suspected it was down to sheer boredom. Over the three nights she had accompanied him she discovered that the Opera Ghost wasn't a casual conversationalist, which wasn't exactly surprising, but she had noticed his body language expressed his emotions more clearly than mere words could.

The first night she had found the silence overwhelming, so she began to recount stories from her childhood and her time at the Opera Populaire. She had noticed early on that her monologues about her time as a dancer in Paris were met with clenched fists, pursed lips, a tight posture and harsh movements, which indicated he did not find the topic pleasing. With that in mind they had briefly spoken about literature and Politics - unsurprisngly Erik did not the the aristocracy, but he also disliked Marx, calling him "unrealistic and delusional".

When they would talk Meg had become accustomed to Erik standing a few paces behind her while she leaned over the handrail while looking into the sea. She knew her mother would througherly chasitise her for behaving in such an unladylike manner, but she also knew it would not be in Erik's interest to tell her. She did wonder if her mother knews about their night time strolls.

Meg had been prattling on about Jane Ayre and the role of religion, when she was take slightly off balance by Erik's voice. She looked over and was startled to find that he was leaning casually over the railing mimicking her own stance staring into the bleek ocean below. "I am sorry" he mumbled.

She straightened her back, cocked her head and looked at him with narrowed eyes. "You have nothing to apologise for Monsiour"

"On the contrary my dear, I have much to apologise for. Your life has been insurmountably changed due to my actions - and my very existence- and for that I am profoundly sorry"

Meg looked over at her unlikely companion, his unmasked side showing a pained expression. She was suddenly overcome with an intense feeling of sadness and pity. The man next to her was a murderer, an obsessive, and had proven himself to be unhinged on several occasions, yet she felt sorry for him. She reached out and softly placed her hand a top of his - a small gesture aimed to show sympathy and comfort.

Erik pulled his hand away as though her touch burned him.

"It is said that America is the land of opportunity. It will provide a new start for all of us all" she said with a smile, "and please remeber that you have done me no ill will".

Although Erik appreciated Meg's words, he doubted that Antionette felt the same way. He hadn't asked his old friend to accompany him to the USA, she had done that of her own vilicition, but he knew her actions were driven by guilt. It had been Antionette that had told Raoul where to find him, it had been Antionette that had directed the mob to his home, and it had been Anionette that had brought Chrstine to the opera house.

Meg reached.out and took his hand in hers - not saying a word but offering a small gesture fort and understanding. It was at that moment Erik made the decision to bid the Giry's fairwell after disembarking tomorrow evening - neither woman needed ties to his role in their old lives - and he needed to distance himself from any connection he had to Christine.

Meg and Erik stood in an uncomfortable silence staring out into the ocean. Both knew that tonight would be the last time they would be alone in each other's company, and Meg suspected that she wouldnt see Erik after tomorrow.


	2. II: Reunited

Erik ran his slender fingers over the dark spruce of the piano, moving down to the cool ivory savouring the smooth texture of the keys before flicking the tails of his coat and sitting on the stool. He took a deep breath, strengthed and flexed his fingers, and momentarily closed his eyes. He always felt conflicted when he performed in public - and that was something that was becoming increasingly common since he had arrived in the USA. Like all composers he was elated whenever his music was performed in public; afterall music was meant to be performed and appreciaited, but he dispised having to perform it himself. That being said, he also hated having his work performed by subpar artistes as they fail to do the music justice, but he needed to chose the lesser of two evils: perform himself or aide the development of a pianist so he wouldn't have to risk ridicule or persuit from across the Atlantic.

As soon as his fingers touched the ivory the room became engulfed by the mellifious sound of his own composition; a unqiue peice that would take center stage in the upcoming performance at the new Metropolitan Opera House, he closed his eyes and let the music flow through his very being. As he played the room became hushed, several of the men and women had closed their eyes, allowing the music to surround them, while others stood open mouthed in amazement.

Since arriving in the USA (six months ago) Erik had inadvertantly built a strong reputation among the upperclass as a talented composer, and somehwat surprisingly, an eligible bachelor. He had found that his mask didn't appear to repulse or terrify women in the city, instead it added an air of mystery, and his musical skills, along with his French accent made him appear exotic. Of course, Erik wasn't a fool - he knew that the primary reason he did not scare or repulse the uppercrust of New York was due to his wealth. His growing reputation and wealth led to him being invited to various high society events , many of which he declined, which ultimately added to his mystery.

Once his fingers struck the final key Erik opened his eyes and lifted his head. In one swift movement he rose from his seat, turned and bowed, only to be engulfed in a tight hug the moment he resumed his normal stance. Shocked Erik became tense. His arms remained firmly at his side unsure of what to do, he glanced down to see a blonde haired woman grasping him tightly, he head resting upon his chest with her hair radiating the smell peppermint. Her body was warm against his, and he suddenly felt guilty as a warm sensation started to grow in his abdomen; he didn't know who the woman was, but her touch and smell reminded him of Christine. Erik had spent months trying to distance himself from the memories of Chrstine, only allowing brief moments to reflect upon his love to aid in his composisitions - he knew that if he remained in this perilous situation with the unknown girl he would likely lose track of reality. To aviod embarrassment he firmly gripped the young woman's arms and pushed her away. When he saw the woman's face he was momentilarily stunned and filled with guilt and disgust at his thoughts - it was Meg's face and green eyes looking up at him.

"Meg Giry, leave Monsiour Destler be", a firm yet familiar voice said from the crowd, "can you not see he is busy with his public?"

\--xXx--

* * *

Erik waited nerviously for his dinner guests. He may have found himself ingratiated into New York high society, but he turned down every dinner invitation and rarely ate out. It was uncharacteristic of him to be sitting in a resturant awaiting the company of anyone, let alone two women.

He had been surprised to see the two women at the Met's gala last night, he was even more surprised by the warm greeting he had recieved from them. He had practically ran away as soon as they disembarked from the ocean liner, he hadn't even bid them goodbye before he disappeared into the shadows. Typical of the Opera Ghost.

At the time of his departure from his eldest friend and her daughter he firmly believed that both Antoinette and Meg were safer without him - he didn't want his negative and corrupting influence to infultrate their lives anymore than it already had. He owed Antionette Giry a great deal; she had saved his life on two occasions, once as a child escaping the gypsies and again when escaping the mob.

Considering all that the two women had sacrificed for him Erik knew he needed to repay them; the first way was with his absence and the second was with the bag of jewels and gold he had put into Antionette's bag. He knew that the value of the items on the bag would not only prevent his oldest friend and her daughter from being destitute, but would also secure them a place in American high society and hopefully aid Meg in finding an eligible husband. When he had been dividing his Persan treasures Erik had made sure that the Giry's had recieved the lion's share - that was the least he could do.

When his dinner guests arrived Erik upheld all the formal pleasentaries associated with formal dining. He had greeted them with a slight bow and kissed both their hands. He had pulled out their chairs, pushed them back in, and bid them good afternoon.

He felt slightly smug when he saw Meg's apparent surprise in response to his behaviour, "I may not have had much experience eating in resturants my dear Meg, but I assure you that I know how to behave".

Meg felt her face turning scarlett out of sheer embarrassment, "I am certain thg you are nothing less than a gentleman Erik". Her mother's disapproving look may have been missed by Meg, but it was not lost on Erik.

Meg had dominated the converation for the majority of their luncheon. She had explained to Erik that she had been overcome by the beauty of the composition he had played at the gala the previous night. She had continually asked him to dissect his composition further; she wanted to know and understand his choice of notes, the various instruments that would accompany the piano and his choice of lyrics for the upcoming performance tomorrow night. Although Erik declined to comment on most things, he enjoyed listening to the young girl's speculations.

It would be clear to anyone that had known (or observed) Meg while in Paris that the USA had been good for Meg - she appeared more confident and more at ease than the timid ballet dancer she had once been. Furthermore she was enjoying herself immensely; laughing and throwing her head back in enjoyment. As he watched her he noticed how her eyes were the colour of emeralds, and that the left had a slight goldern speck that brought out the goldern tones of her hair. He had never paid Meg much attention while at the Populaire - he had seen her as Christine's friend and Anionette's daughter - her dancing wasn't as accomplished as her mother's but it certainly wasn't subpar, but seeing her act in thi manner made him realise just how beautiful Meg Giry really was.

"I can see why you are the talk of New York society" the young ballet dancer teased. Erik raised his eyebrows in response, causing Meg to continue, "many of my female acquaintances talk as though you are classical diety".

She put on an American accent "Mr Destler is unbelievably talented. He is a composer with a voice from heaven, he can play multiple instruments, is very mysterious and has an alluring French accent". She giggled at her own impersonation of a woman neither Erik nor her mother knew before returning to her normal voice, "Plus, you have shown yourself to be kind during our passage. I can see why you have American society eating out of the palm of your hand and socialites falling at your feet". She smiled as her eyes met his, momentarily forgetting that she was in her mother's presence. She reached over and placed her hand atop of his "I have missed our midnight strolls".

Erik quickly pulled his hand back and broke eye contact. Meg allowed her hand to linger on the place where his hand had been before placing it in her lap.

Anionette was not happy with the exchange she had just witnessed and gave Erik a displeased look before addressing her daughter, "Meg - Erik does not need you fawning over him. Think of your fiancé"

Meg felt her cheeks redden and she bit her lip. She wasn't fawning over her mothers friend, she certain of it. Erik had been kind to her during her difficult passage across the Atlantic - without his help she would've suffered for two entire weeks, but his company and medicinal knowledge had been enough to enable her to plough through. She was happily engaged to be married and all she wanted was for Erik to believe in his own personal worth.

"Meg my dear, I would be pleased to hear of your, fiancé" Erik interjected in an attempt to save the girl from further embarrassment.

Meg recounted how she had met her bethrothed and how happy he made her feel. Erik felt a twinge of jealousy as he listened to Meg recount stories of her beloveded as he had longed for Christine to speak of him in that way. He wondered whether Meg had sat with Chrstine while she recounted tales of Raoul, and whether she'd had the glassy-eyed look and sparkle in her eyes whenever his name was mentioned.

He knew that he shouldn't think of the young soprano, for she would be his undoing. He knew that analysing the past several years would make him fall into a deep depression and possibly cause him to behave in an unforgivable way. He had to ground himself: remind himself that if it had not been for Antoinette then his life would have ended the night of Don Juan.

Erik was releaved when Anionette turned the discussion to his music. He recounted how he had found himself composing for the new Metroplian Opera House and had been invited to an increasing number of society events. Based upon his friend's blaise responses and generally uninterested look it was apparent that she was more than aware of his story, and that the line of questioning had been a distraction - time filler even - for the real converstion that would occur after Meg left.

After their main course Meg excused herself due to a prior engagement leaving Anionette staring at her companion with narrowed her eyes. "I do not like the way you were looking at my daughter Erik. I will not allow it"

Erik waved his hand in a dismissive way and smirked, "I assure you Antoinette that I see Meg as nothing more than a friend, as a niece even". He could see Antoinette did not believe him and he was certain there ws little he could say to reassure her of his intentions, "honestly my dear old friend, Meg is a lovely girl, but I do not see her in the way you suggest"

"I have seen the way you look at her. She is happy. Young. Innocent"

"And you do not corrupt her with my distorted soul and face" his voice had became harsher, deeper and darker. The malace interwoven through the words did not go unnoticed.

"I have never said such things to you Erik. It was not I who said your soul was distorted. It was not I who rejeceted you for youth and beauty over genius".

Erik leaned forward placing both palms firmly on the table. His voice took a more sinister turn. A sneer appeared across his lips, his eyes became narrow nad shrp as he looked down on her. His mismatched eyes burning into her very soul "Is that so my dear? You never rejected me? You never chose beauty?"

Anionette shook her head and furrowed her brow. She was confused. Erik was her eldest friend and she had been there for him whenever he asked. She would've followed him wherever he led; she never rejected him, it was he who rejected her by disappearing without a trace - no note, no goodbye

There was an awkward silence between the two as she tried to understand his words. It was when she looked into his eyes she had finally realised, it was at that moment the puzzle pieces fell into place, a shroud of darkness has been lifted: he had loved her.

"I didn't know". It was a feeble response, but all she could manage given the curcumstances.

Erik scoffed "Tell me how I was meant to feel about you Antionette? You saved me from the gypsies, helped hide me while they hunted me down. You showed me compassion that no one else did". He cast his eyes downward. "I am a monster my dear Antionette, a monster deviod of human interaction, a face even a mother couldn't love. How could I persue you, a beautiful and enchanting ballet dancer, when I look like this?" he made a violent gesture towards his mask.

Her own eyes were now downcast unsure of how to respond.

"I heard you speaking with the clerk Julian Giry one night. It was clear that he was your suitor. I left knowing you would have a normal life with him, believing you could be happy. Little did I know that he would become a drunkard" he continued.

"I'm sorry Erik" she wasnt sure what else to say, but it seemed like it wasn't enough. "I didn't know, I honestly didn't know".

She thought back to previous interaction, considering if there were any signs that she had misread. She recalled a time when she had brought a picnic into the catacombs, laying the blanket on the bank beside the underground lake. She had laid out a meal of breads, cheeses and grapes, and the pair had talked about her aspirations to be a prima ballerinia, with Erik explaining why her talent far exceeded that of the other dancers. She had considered his kind words to be a sign of their friendship, but had he showered her with compliments as an attempt to woo her?

Another was her husband's death, which had been somewhat strange. They had pulled his body from the Seine, with the police claiming he had fallen into the river due to intoxication, however Antoinette had noticed the very fine red line around his neck: the mark of the punjab lasso. Had Erik killed her husband? She did consider the possibility at the time of his passing, but had pushed the thought into the recesses of her mind. Her husband had been an awful drunk who was verbally abusive to both her and Meg on a daily basis, and Erik had just referenced Julian as being a drunkard. Either way, deep down she knew it didn't matter. Although she would never publicly admit it but she was relieved he ended up in the Seine - he wouldn't be able to hurt herself or her little Meg any longer.

She looked up at the former Opera Ghost avioding eye contact and repeated, "Honestly Erik, I didn't know"

"Would it have made a difference?" it was a metaphorical question: he didnt want an answer as either response would cause him unnecessary pain. "No matter now, the past is dead. What I find intreguing about Meg is that she reminds me of you. I've witnessed her sharp wit and independence first hand."

"Don't insult my intelligence by changing the subject Erik" she spoke with a confidence that had been lacking a few moments earlier. She was not going to allow him to aviod this conversation: not after so many years.

With a heftysigh Erik conceeded conceded defeat, "Rest assured Anoinette, my feelings for you changed while I was in Persia.I walked down a path that cannot be altered. From that point onwards I knew for certain I don't deserve love".

Erik had never spoken about his time in Persia, all the ballet mistress knew was that he designed palaces and created inventions for the Shah - but he had never given the impression that his time there had been unforgiving - she assumed he had thrived due to the number of jewels he had brought back to France. She took a deep breath, knowing that her next question would likely cause her to be subject to his rage.

"If you are so undeserving of love, what of Christine? what made you..." she trailed off realising she had over stepped a line. She saw Erik's eyes darken, he pursed his lips and rose to his feet.

"Don't talk to me of her!" he roared in almost a growl. Antionette leaned back on chair in a feeble attempt to distance herself from him. Even though she had witnessed his anger she had never been on the recieving end of his wrath. His eyes were darker, his hands in fists, and his stature and presence become more menacing.

Seeing Antionette, the strongest woman he had ever met, shrink back into her chair and look at him with wide-eyed terror, made Erik relaise how aggressive he must seem. It took him mere seconds to realise that all the eyes were on them. He had worked hard to distance himself from the persona of Opera Ghost, and he didn't intend on allowing one outburst driven by the long dead past to destroy it. Ever the showman, Erik started to laugh - it wasn't genuine laughter, but it was enough to fool the other patrons. Although Antionette was intinally confused by Erik's sudsudden change of emotion she quickly realised what was occuring and joined him. Her attempt to save her friend from embarrassment and disgrace had worked and soon the other resturant-goers lost interest in the unusal couple.

"My symphony is being performed at the Metropolitan Opera House tonight. I would be honoured if you, Meg and her gentleman friend would join me. I will be in box five."

\--xXx--

* * *

Erik found Meg's gentleman friend to be satisfactory. There appeared to be genuine concern for Meg's wellbeing as well as having a clear understanding of proprietary and etiquette; something that impressed both Erik and Antionette. On a more personal level Erik was particularly please that he never addressed the elephant in the room: his mask. He knew it was quite likely that either Meg or her mother had advised him to steer clear of the subject, but his ability to ignore its presence resulted in the man earning respect from the former Opera Ghost.

Erik found Americans to be strange creatures, they were often crass, loud and judgemental, but also understanding and accepting - that is if you were white. He had noticed that there were clear societal divisions between those of different skin tones, which was something Erik always failed to understand. In his experience man and woman were equally heinous and angelic regrdless of their heritage. He knew this first hand; he had participated in some unthinkable acts, created devices whose only aim was to torment and kill, murdered when ordered, and hypnotised people under the direction of the Shah - knowing full well what he intended to do with them. He had been the Angel of Doom, and he would've perished in that forsaken place if it had not been for Nadir Khan, which probably would have been a more fitting end for him, rather than attempting to be a fully functioning member of society. These memories made him physically shudder and he glanced over at Antoinette and once again wondered if things could have been different between them - whatever would have happened probability would've not predicted this outcome.

The standing ovation that Erik's score recieved brought a tear to both Antoinette's and Meg's eyes. It was truly beautiful - deep and meaningful, filled with love and torment. Antionette knew it had been written with Christine in mind - that the soaring notes and melodies refkected his desire for his possession of her voice and soul, and the dark, deep rapid notes reflected her rejection of him and his own inner torment of what he was.

Meg turned and hugged Erik tightly while gently sobbing, her tears creating a small damp patch upon his shirt. When she pulled away all she could do was repetedly apologise as she stroked the wet patch. Erik flinched slightly at the contact, stepping back to ensure distance between them. As far as he was concerned Meg didn't need to apologise for being moved by his music; music was meant to move people, and her tears showed he had succeeded.

It wasn't long before the threatre managers entered box five and asked Erik to join them backstage. Ever the recluse Erik declined, but the managers were insistent. It transpired that the opera house had been visited by a well-known European patron of the arts and his wife and that the gentleman in question had been insistent that they meet the talented composer who had enticed them with his spellbinding music. Erik had rolled his eyes, knowing that the managers were hoping for a hefty donation from their European visitor, and he contemplated appeasing them by increasing his own contribution as to aviod an awkward social interaction.

Seeing her friend's wkwardnes and reluctance Meg quickly moved to Erik's side and clutched onto his arm. She whispered into her ear - using her fake American accent - the various comments she had heard about his performances and music - in an attempt to stroke his ego and put him at ease. She even offered to accompany him to the meeting. Meg's idea was reinforced by her fiancé; he claimed it would look good for Erik to have a beautiful woman on his arm.

Erik glanced towards Antoinette as though he saught her approval - he didn't want a repeat of the previous day where he had been chastised for "making eyes" at his friend's daughter. Seeing the shrug of her shoulders and the roll of her eyes Erik stepped towards Meg offering her is arm. They followed the threatre managers, arm in arm, as they led them backstage.

\--xXx--

* * *

"I cannot wait to meet the maestro" said the Vicomte de Chagny as he eagerly shook the director's hand. Although Raoul did not consider himself an expert on such matters, he believed the score to have been written by a musical genius and was adament he would meet the man prior to investing in the new opera house.

As Roaul spoke at lenth with the director and conductor Christine hung back, something she had learnt was appropriate for upper class women, and surveyed her surroundings. She deeply missed being part of a company; he noted the jovial tones and smiling faces of the chorus members and ballet dancers, the beauty of the various props and pieces of set that the stage manager and stage hands were carefully preparing for the next performance.

Her attention brielfy returned to Raoul. His time was now being monopolised by the leading soprano in a clear attempt to secure individual patronage. Christine didn't make many demands of her husband - she had quickly learnt that as an aristrocrat she was subservient to her husband - but she would not allow him to patronise an individual performer; not when he wouldn't allow her to perform. At first he had convinced her she needed to step back from the company to aviod scandal following the events of Don Jaun and that she would be able to return once that night had become a distant memory for Parisian society, but the events of that night hadn't been discussed for months and now she was certain that he simply didn't want her to sing.

As if on que the room became hushed and the members of the company begn to clapped and cheer their composer as he entered the room with a beautiful blonde woman on his arm. The first thing that Raoul and Chrstine noticed was his white mask.

The subsequent events happened in slow motion: Meg registered the guests and her hands went to her mouth, Raoul took a sharp inhale of breath before stepping forward as though to intimidate the taller man before realising he needed to look behind and check on his wife's wellbeing, Christine's face had drained of colour and was deathly pale, and Erik merely stood dumbstruck unsure of how to proceed.

As soon as the former phantom's eyes met those of the Vicomtess, Christine fainted.


	3. III: Reputations

The brisk sharpness of the cold night air caused her to tighten her shawl and fold her arms across her body in loney hug. As she looked out across the city from her balcony Antoinette Giry could see a few windows alit with the dim glow of electric lighting and she wondered if the lives of the people in those homes were as complicated as her. Her mind was swirlling; so much had happened in the last few months, and even more in the last few days and now it seemed like the new lives she had forged for both herself and Meg could be destroyed thanks to Christine Daae.

The former ballet mistress was unsure of how long she had been standing on the balcony considering the possible implcations of the most recent development in her life. She could have taken solace that th woman's reappearance in their lives would certainly shift any misplaced and misunderstood lustings that Erik had towards Meg away from her daughter and tonthe Victomtess, but instead she felt a dull ache in her heart. She could feel the warm stinging of tears forming in her eyes as she knew her rekindled friendship with Erik was most likely coming to an end.

"Maman, please come into the warm. You will catch a cold and possibly die of consumption", Meg called from the French windows leading to the balcony. Antionette rolled her eyes, her daughter was being very melodramatic - she would not catch consumption from standing on the balcony, but she was correct that she may catch the cold.

"Meg - sit down child! A young woman does not bounce", she chastised as she reentered the sittingroom. Her daughter was moving around erratically, and seemed to be shifting her weight between each foot. It was clear that she was buzzing with energy and was fit to burst.

"You should've see her Maman, dressed to the nils. That dress alone must've cost a year's salary at the Populaire - and then mother, and this is what really got my goat, she saw Erik and fainted! I mean, she fainted Mother! If that is what she really did of course - I wouldn't be sure...she could have pretended to faint. Oh maman, poor Erik, whatever he did was going to be wrong. If he stayed the Victomte would most likely have attacked him, but his fleeing it looks ever so suspicious. Oh maman...think of the _gossip_!"

Antoinette hadn't been listening to everything her daughter had said, she was more concerned about Erik's wellbeing than Meg's jealousy caused by her current infatuation, but the word "gossip" caught her attention. Monsiour Andre had once said that "gossip's worth its weight in gold", and he was right, which was something that was a rareity. Yes Meg was right, the gossip could very well be Erik's downfal; reinforcing his belief that people are cruel and he is better off shunned from society than within it. He would retreat into himself, go back into hiding. He could possibly revert back to to his old ways - murderous, obsessive and frightening.

"If there is any gossip then you must correct the stories. You were there. Both you and Erik are people of moderate standing, the Victomte and his wife are unknown entities here. People will believe you"

"The entire company were there mother, not just Erik and I. Oh mother, it wont be what they witnessed that forms the basis of the gossip, more the reason of why Erik fled. I am certain there will be rumours of a clandestine affair - people will make a connection as they are both French and she is a singer and he a composer. Oh maman! Poor Erik".

With a hefty sigh and a morose feeling Antionette knew she needed to be the architect behind any story that involved Meg. It wasn't that she didn't trust Erik's intelligence - the man was a genius - but when it came to Christine Daae he was blind. She needed to know that Meg's interests were protected as there would already be people gossiping about her daughter's role in the whole affair. Afterall, the younger Giry was engaged and had accompanied a man who was not her fiance to a social event, furthermore she had spent time with him in his private opera box. The gossips would convienatly forget that both herself and Meg's betrothed were there and turn the whole event into a sordid rendezvous given the slightest opportunity.

"Firstly my child, stop this 'poor Erik' nonsense. I have known the man a long time and I can count on one hand the number of times that, as an adult, he has been in a situation that warrented pity. He is more than capable of looking after himself. Secondly, as you were present, and it will be assumed that you were Erik's date, you will need to make sure that both yours and Erik's backstories align, and that his connection with the Victomtess is clear"

\--xXx--

* * *

Nadir Khan was mindful to aviod stepping on the shattered glass that littered the floor of the sitting room. He surveyed his surroundings - several chairs were upturned, ornaments smashed and his friend stood hunched over the fireplace. Both of Erik's hands were gripping the mantle, his head hung, his face maskless and his scalp wigless.

He had heard his friend enter their shared apartment not 20 minutes earlier. He had been bedridden for the last week with a dreadful case of American influzena and although almost recovered, at his age such an illness takes a toll on the joints meaning he had not felt strong enough to attend his friend's premier. Looking at his friend's dishevelled state nd the mess that littered the sittingroom he knew he wsn't strong enough to deal Erik's current mental state; when Erik was happy or sad he created, when he was tormented he destroyed, and judging by the extent of destruction Erik Destler was deeply troubled.

"A penny for your thoughts?".

Nadir thought that Erik would be amused by the English idiom, but he was wrong. Idoms (as they called it) was a quiant game they often played where each man would speak to echother in idoms from around the globe, eventually one 'player' would be unable to think of one that was relevant to the situation and that person would lose the game. It was a simple game - if you spoke multiple lnguages and umderstood the cultures of a variety of countries - but it helped keep both men's minds alert while practising their foriegn language skills.

Erik span on his heels, and in one swift movement he turned and held the former chief of police by the neck. Nadir's feet were dangling off the floor, while his hands tried to pry Erik's harsh grip from his neck. The Persian knew that Erik had descended into the depths of his mind, that his rational self was not enagaged, and that the only viable way he was going to survive was for his friend to chose to release him.

Nadir's breathing was already strained as his chest was still sore from influenza, and as his friend's grip tightened it felt like a vice was being closed around him. His eyes swarched in a desperate attempt to find something to hit Erik with while his hands pawed at his throat. His vision begn to fade - It was a loosing battle and he knew it. Then, as suddenly as the whole situation began it ended. Nadir found himself on the floor, hunched over on all fours breathing rapidly. He sat back on his feet, as though he was praying, and looked at his friend. Erik stood stoic no more than two feet from him looking at his hands. It was clear that it had dawned on Erik that he had almost ended his companion's life - his eyes were wide, hands shaking, and it took several attempts for him to find his voice, "I am sorry old friend"

"It's...alright...Erik" the Daroga rasped inbetween strained breaths. He noticed that Erik was running his hand through his sparse hair, which was something he would do when he was wearing his wig and needed to gain some self-control. It was a sign that he was agitated and was attempting to curb his emotions. Nadir was about to enquire as to the cause of his friend's current emotional predicament, but changed his mind when Erik started pacing - circling Nadir as though he was his pray. His eyes were narrowed and in even in the dim candlelight Nadir could identify a fire behind them.

"Erik, please stop. You are making me dizzy". It took several attempts for Erik to acknowledge his friend's request, and when Nadir held out his hand but Erik stood still. "For Allah's sake man, help me up will you!" Reluctantly Erik complied, but as soon as Nadir was upright he turned his back and started pacing again.

"Stand still man! What has happened?"

Erik was once again at the fireplace with both hands gripping the mantle. "She is here. I saw her"

"Who?"

"Chrstine".

"Ah. Did she see you?"

"Do you think I would've done this?" he replied waving his hand frantically in the direction of the mess he had created, "if she had not?"

"To be honest my friend, I do not know. You are unpredictable, and although you have relaxed remarkably well since coming here, I don't try to understand your moods. Am I going to read about the encounter on the front pages or the society pages? I would prefer the latter, but if it must be the former then I will make arrangements so that we - you - can flee the country. I quite fancy England"

"This is not a joke Dragoda"

"I am not treating it like one"

"You are. Do not play games with me Nadir. I am the Opera Ghost, the Phantom of the Opera, the Angel of Doom. Better men then you have cowered in my presence".

"Droll" the Persian said as he poured two large glasses of port.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me my friend. I said 'droll'. You can be very droll Erik".

"Droll!", he roared, "You dare call me droll! If I had my punjab lasso you'd not even be thinking now"

"Good thing you don't have it then"

There was an awkward silence as Erik made his way to the chair on the far side of the room. When he passed Nadir he was certain he saw the man flinch, something that his friend hadn't done for years. They had found themselves in this predicament before; Erik having the opportunity to kill Nadir and vice versa, but neither actually wanting to do it, and they both knew they were safe around eachother, so Nadir's flinching added to Erik's inner turmoil. It had been an awful day: he had abadoned Meg and will probably have to face Antoinette's displeasure sooner rather than later, he had seen Christine and ran away like a small child, and then he had almost killed his closest friend. With a loud groan he sat and and placed his head in his hands.

"I thought I had purged myself of her Nadir. I thought she held no power over me. I use her memory to inspire my writings, but I didn't think seeing her would cause this burning pain within me. She was there with the fop. The Victomte de Chaney, and her his Victomtess. She looked exquisite, perfection, the angel that she is. And then there is me - a vile, disgusting monster, hideous and horrible. She fell into unconsciousness at the site of me"

"Could it not have been shock? After all, she thought you dead"

"Not shock. Just a memory of _this_ abborant face". Erik shouted the last three words while waving his hand frantically in front of the masked side of his face.

\--xXx--

* * *

"...abborant face" a booming voice echoed down the narrow hallway, causing Joseph Cantwell to stop midstep. He smiled briefly at the two women behind him in an attempt to offer some reassurance, but neither woman seemed remotely phased by the unnerving event.

Joseph hadn't been in his current post very long but he was very much aware of the two occupants of apartment 18. He had spoken with Mr Khan on several occasions, but had only seen Mr Destler twice, and he found the Frenchman unnerving. The young concierge closed his eyes and gulped hoping that it wouldn't be Mr Destler that answered his knock.

He let out a sigh of relief when the Persian gentleman opened the door. "Joseph my dear boy. What do you want at this hour?", but before he had the opportunity to answer Nadir spied the two women behind him. "Antionette it is unseemly for you and Meg to be here at this time, especially unaccompanied"

The eldest Giry woman pushed past the concierge, "oh hush Nadir. I do not have time for your Persian ramblings".

"I am speaking French good madam, as you well know". She ignored him and gestured to Nadir to reward the boy for his assistance. As he bid farewell to Joseph he passed him a few coins for his silence.

"Antionette, although it does not happen often, I must agree with Nadir. It _is_ unseemly" Erik's dulcet tone came from the sitting room.

"Only those with unseemly minds see unsemnly things" came a voice that Erik had not been expecting; Antoinette might venture out into the night alone, but he was surprised to hear that she had allowed Meg to to accompany her.

Meg's words brought a smile to his face, reminding him of the sharp wit she she seemed to reserve for those she trusted and he wondered whether she used such a tone when in polite society or with her bethrothed and his family. Upon seeing Meg his smile broadened; she looked even more enchanting than when he had left her at the opera house - her hair was loose and slightly disheveled, showing signs of having previously been worn up, her dress was a mint green with light pink embroidery, complimenting her goldern hair and complexion. She could have easily found herself in a simular position to Elisabeth Siddell as a muse for accomplished artists and poets, yet she had been on his arm earlier that evening. He wasn't sure if it was the light or the alcohol, but at that moment the resembalnce between Meg and her mother was remarkable. She held herself with the same presence, her eyes and smile were almost identical, in fact if it hadn't been for the stark contrast in hair colour she could easily have been mistaken for a younger Antoinette.

"We have come to collaborate your story". Once again the look in her friend's eyes did not go unnoticed by Antionette, and her firm tone was designed to rip him from whatever fantasy he was currently indulging in.

"There is nothing to collaborate", his attention was successfully returned to her.

Nadir shook his head and placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder, turning to address him in a solemn tone "You are incorrect my friend. You were seen with Miss Giry on your arm..."

"and Raoul, the Vicomte de Chagny, looked as though he was going to lynch you" Meg interjected

"And then the Victomtess fainted upon your entry. Followed by you fleeing and leaving the _poor_ Miss Giry alone" Nadir continued

"She was hardly alone. The entire company was there and her mother and _fiance_ in _my_ box", Erik looked in Meg's general direction but stopped short of addressing his comment to her personally. He wasn't really sure why he had felt the need to empthise that Meg had a fiancé but nonethless it was done.

"We need to establish why you fled in order to prevent unsavioury gossip", Nadir said in the most stern tone of the entire evening

"I pay no mind to idle gossip!"

"For God's sake Erik, _you_ may not, but it is not just _your_ reputation at stake" Antionette returned just as forcibly. It took Erik a moment to realise that she was referring to Meg. With a hefty sigh he conceeded and jestured for them to sit while they concocted thier story.


	4. IV: As Friends should

Christine sat on the window bench looking wistfully at the park opposite. She noticed the nannies in their prim uniforms pushing prams and walking alongside well dressed children. It reminded her of the two weeks they had spent at St. James Park in London in one of Raoul's many attempts at distancing themselves from the gossip of Parisian society. She may have been niave, but she wasn't stupid. She knew what Parisian high society had been saying about her, and she knew exactly what Raoul's elder brother Phillippe thought of her. To Parisian society she had been the "le fantôme de la pute de l'opéra", to Monsiours Fermin and André she was "a chorus girl who went and slept with the patron", and to Phillippe she should have been one of Raoul's conquests and nothing more. She closed her eyes and gentlly massaged her temples letting out a long sigh; she wasn't happy and both she and Raoul knew it. She missed music, she missed singing and she missed dancing. Raoul was trying to make her happy by taking her on trips to the various opera houses dotted across the globe, but it wasn't enough. He was trying, and she loved him for it, but she wasn't certain that alone was enough.

Raoul had been pacing around their suite for most of the morning; sometimes ranting, sometimes drinking, and sometimes pausing to look out the window in pensive thought. He had barely spoken to her since the events of the previous night, and Christine was certain he was trying his utmost to control his anger and not direct it at her. When he finally he spoke she was unsurprised by the topic: "I thought him dead". Christine responded in kind, but Raoul was far too irratated to hear her. "I thought him dead" he repeated. "He should be dead. And he was with that ballet girl - Maggie"

"Meg" Christine corrected him without turning to face him. She was distracted by the small boy she had noticed dressed in a blue sailor's suit playing with a red balloon. "Her name is Meg Giry. You met her several times. She was like a sister to me. Her mother was the ballet mistress".

"Meg then", he sneered as he turned to his wife, "her and her godforsaken mother knew more than they shared. Giry seemed to be the harbinger of those notes and she was the one who told me about the punjab lasso. As far as I am concerned they should hang or face madame guillotine alongside him"

Christine closed her eyes again and continued to massage her temples. Her husband's ramblings were starting to give her a headache. "Raoul my dear - don't you think that is a bit extreme?"

"Extreme?" he shouted - almost bellowed - causing her body to become rigid in shock - Raoul was gentle and he had never raised his voice to her in such a manner. Granted he had chastised some.ofntheir servants in that tone, but after he had done that she was filled with regret . "He abducted you, tried to kill me, killed that stage hand - '"

"Joseph Buquet" she interceded.

" - Joseph Buquet, the baritone Piangi, and tried to force you into marriage. I do not think my response is extreme. Far from it. The man is a _monster_. The Devil himself".

Christine turned back to the window and saw the little boy attempting to chase his balloon as the wind carried it towards a small pond. His nanny held him back with a firm grasp on his hand while she could see him cry out. She felt a twang of sadness; she knew that he would never catch it without assistance and in some ways the boy and the balloon were like her and her music, with Raoul being the nanny; she would forever be chasing after her music and never able to catch it as long as Raoul was at her side.

When Chrstine didn't respond Raoul's doubt about his wife's loyalties lay resurged. He hadn't pondered her decision to flee with him for many months. "Why do you defend him?"

She turned to face her husband wringing her hands - the only indicator of her anxiety. "I am not defending him my love. You told me that there would be no more talk of darkness and you would be my light. Talking of him is talk of darkness" and she gave Raoul a small smile, pleading him to stop.

Her reminder of the words he had spoken on the roof of the opera house, along with her small smile, struck a cord with him. He suddenly felt very selfish. His poor wife had been suffering for months thanks to that monster and now he was making her suffer again. "Of course my dear. I am so sorry. How inconsiderate of me". He felt his heart skip a beat when she smiled at him again, this time a broad and happy smile rather than a pleading one. "But this man, this _monster_, must face justice Lotte. Surely you understand that? I will inform the authorities - he is Le Fantôme de l'Opéra, one of the most wanted men in the whole of Paris - the whole of Fance - and I will demand they act"

"Raoul, my dear, please..." but she knew it was useless.

"No Lottë. I will summon the conceriege immediately to arrange a carriage to the police station. I am aristocracy and they will act".

Christine wasn't as certain of her husband's influence as he was, and she hoped that she was correct.

She waited by the window until she saw Raoul climb into a carriage. Once she wws certain her husband had left Christine fetched her cape and gloves. She was going to find Meg.

\--xXx--

Christine sat in the large dining hall waiting. It hadn't taken the hotel conceriege long to find out that Meg regularly took luncheon with her fiancé at Delmoncio's, and it had only cost her a pair of pearl earrings for his discretion.

Christine had been waiting - hoping - to see Meg for the last two hours, and although her money was keeping the staff at arms length, but her continued presence was starting to look suspicious. She knew she was anxious about seeing Meg again, well partially, she was more anxious about seeing who Meg's fiancé was. She was anxious because she suspected that was it Erik. It was a logical assumption to make afterall, her former friend had been on Erik's arm the previous night. That was why she had fainted: the shock of seeing Meg on Erik's arm.

She was getting ready to give up on her endeavour when she noticed Meg walk into the room smiling. She looked more radiant than she had done the previous night; her goldern hair was pinned neatly behind her ears while it still cascaded down past her shoulders. The deep green dress stood out amongst the pale pastels worn by others in the room. Meg was by no means an outstanding beauty, but her current appearance would certainly turn heads.

Christine waited with baited breath to see the identity of Meg's companion. She could see that Meg was happy from her mannerisms; years of rooming in the opera house and spending most their waking moments together had meant the pair had become acutely accustomed to eachother's behaviour.

As soon as Christine saw his towering form and attire she knew. Her heart sank as she said his name under her breath "Erik". She could feeling the burning pain of held back tears in her eyes - her best friend was engaged to her Angel of Music - it felt like the ultimate betrayal. The pain in her heart only deepened when she saw Anionette Giry, the Persian and an unknown gentleman follow her former mentor and friend to their table. Across the room were four people who had, in one way or another, had a monumental impact on her life and seeing their faces together made her long for a simpler time. She saw how Erik gestured towards the waiting staff to stand aside as he pulled out Madam Giry's chair, a simple gesture of both familarity and respect that Raoul had servants do.

"I am flattered that you invited me to luncheon Mr Destler" Oliver Gregory, Meg's fiancé, gushed as he pulled out a chair for Meg and Erik did the same for Antionette, "to have been welcomed into your private box at the premiere of your newest sympathy, and then to accompany my fianceé to luncheon with you - well I cannot thank you enough".

Antionette and Nadir both raised their eyebrows in response to the young man's admiration of Erik, and both let out an amused huffed and slight shake of head when they caught each other's eyes. They both would freely acknowledge that Erik was a genius and a very interesting man, but it was unusal to see a gentleman express his admiration for him.

"It is I who should thank you Mr. Gregory, afterall, you are the one who allowed me to be in the company of your lovely fianceé unchaperoned. Thank you for your trust monsiour"

"No thanks is necessary, Meg does not need my permission to be in the company of such an esteemed and talented gentleman. And please, do call me Oliver". He waited for Erik to respond in kind, but little did he would be waiting a long time. Unbeknowst to Oliver, Erik did not allow people to use his forname freely as it gave them the impression of familarity, and it would take many months - years even - for him to allow Meg's gentleman into his inner circle.

The luncheon itself had been organised to feed Oliver the 'correct' account of the events of the previous night and how the Girys came to be aquanited with Nadir and Erik. With Oliver's clear admiration of Erik and adoration of Meg, he didn't question their account once. He freely accepted that Erik had left Meg's side at her own insistance, stating that she knew the Victomtess from their time at the Opera Populaire and it would be ungentlemanly for him to remain while the lady was unconscious. Soon Oliver directed the conversation back to Erik.

"You really are a man of many talents Mr Destler. A musician, composer and architect. It is France's loss that youve decided to come to make the Statesyour home and share your amazing talents with us", before turning to Meg "have you every danced to Mr Destler's music?"

Meg, Erik, Antionette and Nadir all tensed. She had danced in Don Juan and they all knew that had not ended well.

"Meg has never danced for me" Erik interjected. It was not an untruth, and by saying it Meg needn't have lied to her fiancé. She had never danced soley for him, although he wondered if she would.

"Meg, I cannot believe that you have been aquanited with Mr Destler for so many years and yet you have never danced to his music. It is tantamount to sacrilege! I am sure his music intertwinned with your interpretation would be exquisite"

Meg had never wondered why Erik had never asked her to dance for him. She felt slightly sad that he hadn't and hoped that if she would glance and meet his eyes, that maybe - just maybe - he would ask her. Instead, when she did glance in his direction she saw him looking at her mother with a slightly morose expression that she was unable to interpret.

"Please do not worry", Oliver continued seemly oblivious to the fact that only Nadir had been giving him his full attention, "I shan't pay any head to gossip of a rendezvous between yourselfs, and will ensure that all who speak of the events know that Meg was there at my bequest"

Christine's eyes remained transfixed on the five people at the table on the otherside of the room. She felt a longing when she saw them all laughing; since becoming the Victomtess de Chagny she had found that she hadn't any friends of her own, instead she was subjected to endless society and charity dinners organised by Raoul's mother and her friends in a façade of happiness and propriety designed to distance Christine from the unfair reputation she had gained thanks to the rumour and gossip mills of all echelons of Parisian society.

Christine had waited for what felt like an eternity to see an opportunity ti get Meg alone, and she was delighted when she saw Meg excuse herself from the table and head towards the ladies room. She waited until she was certain that it was only herself and Meg in the room before making her presence known. "Meg Giry? Meg Giry is that you?"

"Christine?", the blonde girl looked at her in wide-eyed horror which Christine misread as shock.

"Of course" Christine flung her arms around Meg and pulled her into an inappropriate hug. Meg on the otherhand remained stoic and kept her arms at her side. The ballet dancer could feel the dread rising in her stomach: Christine was here at the resturant, Erik was also at the resturant, did she know he was here? Surely not. She fainted upon seeing him last night, so surely she wouldn't be walking about freely if she knew he was here.

Sensing Meg's reluctance Christine decided her best option was to continue, "I thought I saw you last night, and then I was certain it was you having luncheon. Oh, my dear friend, how I have missed you. How have you been? You look so well" she said with a large grin.

"I am very well thank you", Meg paused - she was annoyed, if Christine had missed her then she would've replied to her letters or telegram, instead she hd embraced her life as a Victomtess and had washed her hands of their friendship, "tell me Christine, if you missed me so, why didn't you write?"

"I needed a clean break", she spoke with a furrowed brow and crossed her arms defensively. "Surely you can understand that?",

"A clean break from our friendship?"

"No, don't be ridiculous! I needed a clean break from the Populaire. From everything that happened. I was in turmoil, conflicted and confused. I needed time to think". Her hands were outstretched, pleading for her former friend to take them.

"So you decided the best way to move forward was to pretend we weren't friends. You decided to turn your back on me, music and dancing"

"No, well not exactly..." her words tailed off before she handed Meg a small slip of paper, "here is where I am staying. Please forgive me. I beg you to come and visit".

Meg looked at the piece of paper and crumpled it into a ball, but chose not to dispose of it. "I shan't degrade you with my presence. Isn't that what your husband will think? Afterall is he not the real reason we ceased being friends? A ballet rat like me is not good enough to be in the presence of the Victomte de Chagny".

"Do not speak of my husband in such as manner. You know nothing of him and You have no right!".

Her protest enraged Meg further - she had given Christine an excuse for her behaviour, but instead of embracing the truth she had raised her voice. "Then I have nothing more to say" she huffed, "now if you excuse me, I must be getting back to my friends and fiancé. They care for me, as friends _should_, and will wonder what has become of me if I do not return soon".

Christine understood Meg's annoyance, and she desperately wanted a glimpse - a slither - of what they once shared. As Meg walked past she spoke softly, "I don't hate you"

"Excuse me?",

"I don't hate you Meg. I don't hate you for for being with Erik".

Meg's hand hovered over the doorknob. She could've corrected her, but instead she turned the knob and left.

\--xXx--

When Raoul arrived at the police station, known as a precent in the USA, he was less then impressed. Both the exterior and interior were run down with paint flaking off the walls and an overwhelming stench of cheap tobacco. In Paris his main dealings with the guards had been in the lead up to Christine's performance of that awful opera written by the Opera Ghost and the immediate fall out. He had sat with Christine as she sobbed hysterically for hours, unconsoliable and incomprehensible, while the authorities had acceptaccepted his account without returning to question her further. He was less than satisfied with the welcome he recieved from authorities in the USA.

When he approached the front desk he was less than impressed with the welcome he had recieved and was even more unimpressed by their response to his enquiry and request

"Look 'ere Mr" the officer began,

"Vicomte. I am the Vicomte de Chaney", he iterjected

"Vic-cant. French authorties have no power 'ere. You say this man is a ghost, well, I'm all for spiritualism and all that - that is when they aren't swindling the poor, but an opera ghost. What does 'e do aye? Scare people by singing? Force 'em to sing?". Te officer and his colleague burst into laughter unaware of how close to reality they were.

"Good sirs, I will be more than happy to furnish you with the intricate details once you investigate Mr Destler. I assure you, he is a wanted man, a criminal mastermind, a murderer. "

"Look sir, as I 'ave already told you, you French have no jurisdiction here."

Raoul knew that there was only one thing that would get them to change their minds, and luckily he had it in abundance: money.


	5. V: The hallway

Both Erik and Nadir raised their eyebrows simultaneously as Detective Jim Poole recounted the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera. The two friends had an unspoken agreement not to discuss the events that had occured at the Opera Populaire, so having a stranger recount the Vicomte's version of events made both men feel uneasy.

With every description of the dramatic twists and turns both Erik and Nadir's faces contorted with a mixture of both bewilderment and confusion. Nadir would occasionally raise an eyebrow and subtly shake his head in an attempt to try unsettle the detective, while Erik tried his best to remain unexpressive and disinterested in the whole story. Erik's demeanour appeared to have successfully convinced Poole, but Nadir could tell that he was becoming increasingly unsettled.

Since relocating to the USA Erik's temprement and ability to manage his emotions had improved, but Nadir knew him well enough to identify his friend's old tells were still obvious. Erik dug a finger nail into his palm each time Christine's name was mentioned, he was starting to run his hand over his hair and spread his fingers out - all tells that he was agitated and attempting to maintain control.

"So let me get this straight", Erik began once Poole had finished, "This man, the Vicomte de Chagny, believes that I just happen to be - and I quote - 'the most wanted man in Paris'". Poole quickly nodded, "as I wear a mask".

"Well, that isn't the only reason Sir..." the detective managed to stammer

"This masked man had a lair in the catacombes of Paris - a lair, haunted an opera house, abducted his wife tried to force her to marry him, pretended to be an angel in order to seduce his wife, pretended to be his wife's dead father in order to seduce her, murdered using a lasso, and finally sent a chandilier crashing to the floor of the opera house as another attempt to seduce the Vicomte's wife?"

"Well, yes Mr Destler" Poole tried to sound assertive. The detective was starting to feel very uncomfortable, not only because the story he had relayed seemed outrageous, but because Mr Destler was an intimidating man with an intimidating presence. Prior to his retelling of the story Poole had found the composer to be accomodating and polite - all that he expected based upon his limited research - a modicum of decorum, but the tone used in their last interaction verged on menacing. The man had arisen from his seat as he spoke and had taken a single stride towards him, and although there was still a comfortable distance between them his unusal stature added to his arresting persona. Of all the people Poole had interacted with as a result of his job: old money, new money, immigrants, the criminal poor, dock workers, this man stood out, and he was unsure as to why.

Nadir noted Erik's change in demeanour, and he knew he needed to act quickly in order to prevent his friend from doing something rash. "I am no detective good sir, but it seems to me that this gentleman has an unhealthy obsession with his wife's fidelity", he paused before adding, "is the Victomtess' fidelity a police matter?",

Erik didn't allow Poole the opportunity to respond, instead his anger and annoyance bubbled to the surface. He wasn't really annoyed with the detective, it was the fop that had gotten under his skin.

"Quite frankly good sir, I am insulted that you have graced my door with such an absurd accusation. If - and I say if the story is true, as the entire story seems like something out of a Penny Dreadful - it seems the accusation has been cast upon me as I am French and wear a mask. Hardly sufficient evidence needed to prosecute someone". His lip curled and his eyes narrowed before continuing, "Also, I was unaware that the French authorities have such influence here, or is it the Vicomte's money that has influenece?".

As Erik spoke the officer's cheeks reddened and he shifted uncomfortably between his feet. Nadir could tell that Erik was making the man uneasy with his less than astute observation, which is something that would not benefit either of them in the long run.

"My old friend, there is no need cast accusations at Detective Poole, he is doing his job" he said to Erik as he gestured for the officer to follow him.

Once in the hall Nadir knew he needed to undertake damage control and justify Erik's defensive behaviour - there was always the concern that the detective may be more astute than he initially appeared, or that the Vicomte's money had brought more than a simple questioning.

As he handed the young officer his hat and cape he spoke in a hushed tone - it was soley for the detective's benefot as nadir knew that years of living in the dark conditions of the opera house had meant that Erik's hearing was beyond expectional (which he believed was one of the reasons his friend was able to write such beautiful music).

"Please excuse Mr Destler. I am sure you can appreciate that he is sensative about his mask - the product of an injury during the Franco-Prussian War. He would not like me to speak so plainly, but he will have taken offence to being accused for such heinous behaviour based soley on his nationality and appearance".

"I meant no offense Sir, please pass my apolgies onto Mr Destler".

Once the officer had left Nadir poured both men large glasses of port and they sat in uncomfortable silence. He could see that Erik was stewing and, Allah-forbid, plotting. He could see his eyes had darkened, his expression had become stern. He knew he was most likely plotting the Vicomte's deminse.

After an elongated silence Nadir finally addressed the elephant in the room, "they don't believe him".

Without a word Erik quickly stood and walked towards the small desk in the corner of the room and began frantically writing a letter. When he was done he handed it to his friend. Nadir looked at the name on the front and shook his head.

\--xXx--

Erik trapsed through the dark streets until he reached the Giry's home. Nadir had insisted that Erik inform the woman that the Vicomte had convinced the police to visit him in person, and that the Vicomte was out for his blood. Apparently it would be neither gentlemanly nor appropriate to send a note.

He had been expecting a servant to open the door but instead he was greeted by Meg Giry in her nightdress and dressing gown. Erik ensured he averted his eyes - Meg should know better than to answer the door skantaly clad, especially at night. He considered reminding her of decorum and appropriate behaviour but instead decided such a lesson would be better if it came from her mother.

"Excuse me madomsille, I was hoping to speak with your mother"

"I am afraid she has taken a sleeping aid, but please come in and I will try and stir her". Again, Meg did not follow the rules of etiquette and invite her guest into the sittingroom; instead she left him hovering in the hallway. Erik removed his hat in anticipation of seeing Antionette - he was not in the mood to be chastised for ungentlemanly behaviour.

"I am afraid that she will not stir. I will make her aware of your visit, although I am sure she will disaprove of your admittance to our home at such a late hour. But please call again in the morning"

"Then I shall bid you farewell Meg my dear" he bowed slightly before he readorned his fedora and turned to leave.

"I am sorry you cannot tell me what is troubling you. You helped me so much during our passage. I thought we had gone beyond the formality of mere acquaintances and that we are friends".

He didn't turn to face her. He struggled to understand how his life had changed so much in so few years. He couldn't understand how or why Meg would consider him, a monster like him, to be her friend. "I am flattered that you think of me in such a way. I don't want to trouble you with my woes"

"It is no trouble. You have travelled here in the midst of night, so whatever is on your mind must be important", she reached forward and placed her hand tentatively on his shoulder.

"Nadir said that sending a note wasn't appropriate nor gentlemanly"

Meg laughed and retracted her hand from his shoulder. Notes. "I loved hearing and seeing Messieurs André and Firmin's recations tonyour notes. I remember that mother was always delighted when younleft them for her to deliver - she knew something amusing was going to happen. You would put so many different things into your notes, pray tell me what Nadir deemed so inapprorpriate that a note wouldn't suffice".

"Nadir was never fond of my notes, although I never knew your mother was. As for the topic, the police visited me courtesy of the fop" Erik said with a sigh, "he told them who I was, but it is such an outlandish story that they didn't believe him". He turned to face her, cupping the hand that had been on his shoulder in his own, "nevertheless, it is possible that I may need to leave the USA abruptly".

Meg wasn't entirely sure why she did it; frustration, urst, probably jealously, but she kissed him. She kissed him with a furvour that she had never bestowed upon Oliver. She felt his body tense as she placed her hands on either side of his face, one running across the porcelain of his mask, before he relaxed and pulled her closer disgarding his hat on the floor.

The last kiss Erik had recieved had been from Christine, and it was nothing like what he was experiencing with Meg. It was clear the kiss from Christine had been one of pity, whereas the one he was recieving from Meg was one of passion. Caught in the moment he pushed until her back was against the wall and his hand began to gather the fabric of her nightdress. It wasn't until his fingers touched the naked skin of her thigh and he heard her let out a slight moan and whisper his name. It was at that moment his senses returned to him. At the sound of her voice he opened his eyes and relinquished his hold upon her. Quickly turning away in shame. "I am sorry".

"Don't be. I'm not.", when he didn't turn round she felt her heart drop, "are you embarrassed?" When he didn't answer, "why can't you look at me?"

How could he articulate how he was feeling at that moment? In his entire life no woman had shown that she desired him, and he desperatly longed to be desired. It would be so easy to succumb to his primal urges, but he didn't long for Meg's touch, he longed for Christine and it would not be proper or fair to treat Meg as a substitute. "You are an attractive young woman Meg, but..."

"But...?" she paused momentarily, but not long enough to allow him to respond, "but I am not her". Her eyes were full of furvour as she spoke in a calm yet menacing tone, one that the Opera Ghost himself would have been proud of. "Well let me tell you something Erik, no one will ever be her, not even Christine herself. You have her on some God forsaken pedestal, and I assure you that she is not the angelic creature you believe her to be".

Her tone changed from calm and menacing to annoyed. "You know what Erik? Just leave. I shall tell maman that you called, but I will leave this dalliance out of my account. She will not know of this, and you can go back to your pathetic existence lusting after Christine. You need not speak or think of me again, for I will make a conscience effort to aviod you. But know this: tonight you had a woman who knows what and who you are. A woman who was willing to give herself to you regardless, but instead you clung on to a girl who believed you to be an angel. A relationship - if you can call it that - based on lies"

Erik was angry. How dare she speak to him in such a manner, he was the god damned opera ghost, the most wanted man in the whole of France, and she was once a ballet rat that cowered at his voice, and now she stood in front if him deifant, challeneging him to an undefined battle of will and words. His eyes narrowed, his lips pursed and in a few short strides he was a few inches from her. He reached out his hand and used one finger to tilt her head upwards to ensure her gaze met his.

He had expected her to flinch, but instead she stared at him with a resolve he had not seen before. She was goading him, daring him. He had intended to scare her, but she seemed unfazed, he noted her breathing had become more rapid but beyond that she showed no signs of wavering from her challenege: he looked down at her in mock disgust hoping that his stare and expression would be enough to deter her, but she stood defiant.

The air remained heavy from their kiss, and although Erik was adament he would not succumb to his primal urges their current predicament meant he was finding it more difficult to dismiss the desire he felt stir within him. He had a second before the game was lost: the opera ghost, phantom of the opera, losing a game of will to a former ballet rat wouldn't do. So he kissed her.

He ran his hands through her goldern locks and she wrapped her arm around his waist and pulled him closer to her. She could feel his desire perilously close and attempted to adjust their positioning to show she was willing to be accomdating. Meg's squirming had been enough to snap him back to reality and he practically jumped back away from her muttering apologetically as he smoothed his hair and re-adjusted his mask.

"I am sorry Meg, please forgive me. I am unsure of what came over me." He turned away and started pacing, eventually stopping and placing his head in his hands as me mumbled incomprehensibly.

"I know what came over you. I felt you afterall" she said with a grin, "I definitely felt what came over you".

"Meg Giry! Do not be crass!". Both Erik and Meg turned to see Antoinette standing in the doorway, her candle making her appear even more ominious than her tone. "Go to the sitting room, both of you" her hand frantically gesturing towards the red faced pair in front of her.

"You do not command me Antionette" Erik said with sincere defiance.

"Based upon what I just witnessed, you would be wise to follow my instructions Erik Destler. That is, if you want to keep that - " she jestured her cane towards his loins, " - part of your antonomy functioning".

When they entered the sitting room Meg made her way to a chair in the far corner of the room, while Erik ensured he sat at the furtherest point from her possible.

Antionette made her way to the drinks cabinet and poured herself a neat whisky before turning to face her daughter and oldest friend. Her aim had been to build tension, make the couple feel uneasy and at the utmost ensure she seemed as menacing as possible. When she finally spoke she narrowed her eyes as she addressed Erik. "Erik, why are you here? I hope your primarly purpose was not to seduce and bed my daughter"

Erik looked at her in shock; after all these years they had known each other Antionette believed that he would come into her home and attempt to bed her daughter. Of all the times he was alone with Christine not once did he behave the way he had done with Meg: it was uncharacteristic. He glanced towards the young woman sitting on the far side of the room before answering.

"No Antionette, I did not come to seduce and bed your daughter. And quite frankly I am deeply insulted that you believe I would come here with that motivation. In fact I wanted to send you a note, but Nadir insisted that I speak to you in person. I actually came to inform you that I may have to leave the USA abruptly as the fop has informed the police of my identity".

Antionette and Erik spoke for a while regarding his visit from the police before her attentioned turned to Meg. "I am well aware of the misplaced infatuation you have with Erik. You do not hide it well. Goodness knows how Oliver hasnt noticed - probably too infatuated with the pair of you himself - but it ends now"

Erik looked towards the young woman and a twang of guilt. "Antionette, I am not faultless here"

"Which I am well aware of. What I have to say to you is not for my daughter's delicate ears". She turned to address her daughter, "now Meg, I bid you goodnight and you need to do the same to Monsiour Destler"

Meg nodded, and gave Erik a sad small smile, "goodnight Mr Destler. Once again, please accept my apology for my behaviour".

Once again Erik felt his guilt bubble. He stood and took Meg's hands in his and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. "There is nothing to forgive".

She smiled at him and looked through her watery eyes. With a hefty sigh he rested his forehead upon hers. Both Meg and Antoinette thought he was going to kiss her again, but instead he stepped away and gave a curt bow before bidding her good night.

The pair watched Meg skulk sullenly to her bedroom.

"Antionette, I am sorry", Erik mumbled, "I don't know why I did it". It was a feeble apology and an even more feeble excuse. Then, without warning the former ballet mistress grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into the hall. Before he was fully aware of what was happening his fedora was pushed into his chest and he was standing in the communal hallway.

"My daughter is not a consolation prize Erik" Antoinette hissed as she firmly closed the door.

Erik didn't need to be told; he knew.

\--xXx--

A/N - Is anyone reading this? Just wondering. As I said in my profile 'sometimes I get an idea' - if I don't write it down I get a little bit obsessed, so no worries. I was just wondering reall


	6. VI: A Note Would've Sufficed

**_A/N- This is the same chapter as previously posted (with some amendments due to typos and formatting errors)_**.

**_I probably should go back and check chapters 1-5 as well_**

**_xxxxx_ **

Erik had shut himself away composing for over a week and although his unsociable hours hadn't been a problem until recently, his constant pounding on the cool ivory keys of his piano had started to cause problems. Previously the other tenants would greet Nadir with praise for the beautiful music that came from their apartment, with many crediting the dulcet tones for their joyous dreams and ease to sleep. But now it was a different story; Nadir was greeted by angry rants and noise complaints.

When Erik had resided under the opera house all music he composed had been beautiful; when meloncholic the sadness and torment behind his sympathies and scores entranced, when he was happy - or at least content - his music comsumed the listener causing them to soar as though they would be able to reach heaven. But now his music was angry, brooding, disjointed and equated to him hammering at the pianos keys as though he was an angry toddler, and their neighbours were no longer willing to tolerate the music drifting through the corridors and pipework. In order to perserve their tenancy Nadir had to placate the tenants' committee with gifts of expensive wines and baskets of luxury foods with promises that he would address his friends "uncharacterisitic behaviour". Although the Persian knew it wasn't really _that_ uncharacteristic.

It had taken a while but Erik had finally struck the Persian's last nerve. He wasn't entirely site what had been the straw that broke the camel's bacl; it could've been that he hadn't slept soundly for days, it cpuld've been that he was consuming copious amounts of coffee, or that he was suffering with a constant and nagging pain in the back of his head.

"Erik man, open this door", he spoke loudly while rapping persistantly, but instead of the music ceasing the pounding on the organ just increased. "Erik, that is not music and you know it! Stop wallowing in your own self-pity and face the world like the gentleman you _claim_ to be".

The music stopped suddenly and Nadir felt the muscles in his back tighten. He knew his choice of words had been poor, especially the empthasis on the word 'claim'. He knew Erik, regardless of his past actions, strove to be a gentleman, a modicum of decorum and that he hadn't partaken in anything untoward since leaving France. He also knew it was possible that, given Erik's current state of mind (as evidenced by his 'playing') that such poor choice of words would, at best, end in a shouting match, and at worst, end in death.

Nadir would've heard light footsteps if he had strained enough, but instead all he heard was the turn of the key. He stepped back, raisised his hand to the level of his eyes, and braced himself.

The man who opened the door was unkempt - dark stubble followed his jawline, his visable undereye was a shade of.deep bluish-purple; if it hadn't already been abundantly clear that the man was troubled, his appearance would've made it so.

Nadir knew the quickest way to ground Erik and attempt to aviod his wrath was to secure and maintain eye contact; it was always hardest to end someone's life when you looked into their eyes. Now Nadir knew Erik had eagerly killed while maintaining such intimate contact, but he also knew Erik had never killed a 'friend' and he hoped that woupd be enough to control the man's temper. Granted, Nadir was Erik's only friend but the Persian rationalised that would be enough.

Nadir tilted his head slightly to see past his imposing friend into the room behind. He noted there were sheets of compositions scattered across the floor, whisky and wine bottles dotted around, and a fair amount if broken furntiure and ornaments.

"Enlighten me Erik. How is your awful pounding on the piano my fault?"

"You know very well what you have done. I sometimes wonder if you take pleasure from punishing me", he scowled as he spoke, "I often wonder whether our entire 'friendship', as you have so often called it, is actually at the bequest of the shah and you are subjecting me to a fate worse than death".

"Stop being so melodramatic Erik. You know that we are friends. Now tell me what that awful _noise_ is about". He was certain he saw Erik flinch everso slightly when he referred to the incessant sound as 'noise' rather than music. Nadir scoffed inwardly at how the reaction just reinforced the man's own arrogance.

Erik spun on his heels and marched back to his piano, but as he didn't close the door Nadir took as an invitation to enter. He carefully stepped over the disregarded compositions that scattered the floor, the chaos reflecting his friend's mind and wordlessly bent down to start collecting the dismissed compositions

"Will you stop touching my things Nadir!"

Ignoring the demand he continued his tidying, "you cant live in this squalor Erik. It is ungentlemanly". As he collected the disregarded pieces of work he noticed the notes had been written with such force there were deep indentations in the paper. He felt sorry for his friend; he had been doing so well in controlling his temper of late, and he suspected that it was Christine de Chaney that was causing this pain.

Nadir's train of thought was abruptly interrupted by a scoff from the otherside of the room followed by the silky smooth voice of unfortunate friend. "Ah but Nadir, I merely _claim_ to be a gentleman, do I not? I have lived in a _lair_ in the catacombs of Paris. This is the height of luxory" he gestured wildly to his room paying particular attention to jesturing towards the empty bottles of wine that littered the floor.

Nadir tried to ignore the melodramtic undertone to his friend's voice, "Erik, what is this about?"

Instead of answer Erik sat at the piano and began to play. Unlike the sounds of recent days he actually played music, this time one of the composistions from his most recent symphony.

"I would've sent a note to the Girys" he said, almost absent mindedly as he played, " but no - you insisted I see them in person. Antionette wouldn't have minded a note, apparently she used to find them amusing". Nadir noticed a change in his friend's posture and a slight distance in his eyes as though he was remembering something slightly fanciful, "but instead you sent me there. Therefore the blame for this entire situation lays firmly at your feet".

"I did not send you there, I merely pointed out that it would have been ungentlemanly to send a note".

He recieved no response beyond the continued melody of the paino.

"Erik, I am not too proud to say I am concerned for your wellbeing, but I cannot help you if you do not provide me with insight into what is truoubling you so deeply".

With a hefty sigh, yet not turning to face bis friend Erik finally responded, "I recieved a proposition"

"Surely that is not unusal"

"That kind of proposition is", he paused pensively as though he was considering whether to elaborate further while turning his body away from his friend to aviod embarrassment.

"Nadir, Meg tried to seduce me". Upon seeing the shocked expression across his friend's face Erik's annoyence and own feelings of self loathing bubbled to the surface, "is that so hard to believe?" He had meant it to be a metiphorical question, but before he could continue his rant Nadir interjected.

"In all honesty my friend, it is not. You are the toast of New York society and many society women throw themselves at your feet, I am merely shocked that Madmonselle Giry would try to seduce anyone. She seems such an innocent girl".

Erik chuckled, "ah but Nadir, the ballet rats have always been loose with their affections. But needless to say, I was as surprised as you, although I would think it was her first attempt at seduction as it was quite ill timed and placed - in her mother's hallway after all"

"You don't mean to tell me that Antionette saw the exchange?! Thank merciful Allah that you have not been castrated"

"I daresay I would be if Antionette saw me near the girl again". Erik had risen from his position at the piano and began pacing the room, his pace increasing alongside his agitation before letting out a hefty sigh, "but she was so enticing Daroga. It was if she were daring me to take her".

"For pity's sake man!"Nadir was shaking his head in disbelief, "you mean to tell me you would've taken Meg Meg Giry to your bed if Antionette had not appeared?"

"I would've taken her there in the hall if the situation had continued much longer", he turned to face him. The expression Erik was met with was a mixture of both surprise and trepidation, "oh do not look at me likDaroga! I am but a man. A man who had a woman willingly in the grasp of these very hands - the very hands that have ended so many lives - and she knows that, yet she was willing to give herself to me. That, my friend, is why I have been making that _noise_ \- as you so elequantly put it. I am troubled by the turn of events".

Nadir was unsure how to respond to Erik's admission as he wasn't entirely sure of what his friend had just divulged. Instead he walked over to the small table at the far side of the room and poured a glass of brandy from the only remaining bottle that contained any type of liquid.


	7. VII: Painting

**_A/N - a short filler chapter that bridges a gap_**

**_xxx_**

* * *

A deep sense of melancholy had overtaken Christine since her last encounter with Meg. She had been filling her days with short strolls through Central Park , magazine serials and embroidery - something she didn't enjoy and had never been particularly adept at. Her latest attempt, and it really was a poor excuse of an attempt, was a border of autumn flowers around the edges of a small handkerchief. She sat staring at her handiwork turning the fabric over in her hands and running it through her fingers. It looked awful, in fact, it looked so awful it was almost laughable; the stitching was uneven and wonky, her knotted diamond was off centre and even though she had used dégráde the design appeared rather dull.

She smirked to herself imagining Raoul's mother's reaction to her dégráde; she certainly would've commented on the uneven stiching and how the colours didn't fulfil the effect. If she was lucky the doweger Comtess would have made a snide remark before continuing with her own piece, butit was much more likely she would've offered Christine 'guidance'.

The thought of the Comtesses' guidance made Christine visably shiver. It was well known among Parisian high society that the de Chagny fanily did not approve of their youngest son's marriage, and the doweger Comtess, for all her airs and graces, made no attempt to hide her intense dislike of her daughter-in-law, regardless of company.

The main issue his family had with her was that she had never recieved etiquette training, attended finishing school and knew almost nothing about the leisure past times of the wealthy beyond their interest in the arts and fine dining. Until her father's untimely passing she has always been near the aristocracy, but never one of them; she was an outsider looking in. She had felt a simular way when she had arrived at the Populair , which is probably why she felt comforted by Erik's kind words and tutoriage.

She had been well aware that wasn't like the other girls, she wasn't freely giving of her affections, nor was she an exceptionally talented dancer, and she certainly didn't enjoy dancing in scantily clad clothing. Her position as an outsider, feeling alone, was one of the reasons she had been so eager to believe Erik was an angel sent by her father. An angel to protect her from corruption by the other ballet rats, but also feed her passion for music.

The young Vicomtess placed her embrodery on the small mahogany side table. She knew Raoul would be back soon and that he would back soon and that he would expect her to be dressed for dinner. As she rose she caught sight of one of the paintings on the far side of the room. She had never really taken much notice of the rooms decor, but this particular painting seemed to be calling her over.

The piece wasn't a masterpiece, but it was well done. It depected a mother and child looking out across the ocean towards a distant ship. She didn't recognise the flag, but she noticed how the couple were in the far left, surrounded by brightness, while the boat appeared in the bottom right sailing into darkness and murky waters. Christine narrowed her eyes trying to focus on the ship's flag, but she decided it was most likely painted in a way to make ot ambigious.

She remembered that Erik had once spoken with her abiut imagery in art. She didnt recall muchof the conversation, but she did remember that many pieces used light and dark as synoymns for good and evil. That certain items were used to highlight themes - a red apple is temptation, while a white horse for purity and saviour. She couldn't see evidence of either pieces of symbolism in this piece, and she began to wonder what message the painter wanted portray. It was clear to her the the woman and child represented positively and light, while the boat sailed off into uncertainty and possibly evil. Maybe the woman's love is on that boat? Maybe he will never return to her? Or perhaps he will betray her?

At that moment she wished she had paid more attention to Erik's words, instead of being swept up in his genius and her admiration.

She glanced back at the image of the child and her memories of Erik were once agin replaced by another thing Raoul's family were critical about; she had failed to produce an heir. Christine knew she wanted children; she wanted to teach them to sing and dance, to play with them in the gardens of the estate, but after two years they had not been blessed.

With every passing day Christine's feelings of failure grew. She had failed her friend by not responding to her letters, she had failed Mafame Giry by ceasing dancing, she had failed her Angel of Music by betraying him in front of the house and then not persuing her stage carrer as a prima donna, and she was failing as a wife. She had not yet bore Rapul a child, she couldn't undertake the simplest tasks required of a lady, and worst of all her thoughts were becoming increasing invaded by a certain composer.

Her mood was not improved by the arrival of her husband; Raoul's tempremant had been poor of late, and it had not been improved since he had visited the police precinct. She was also certain her lady's maid had reported her unchaperoned visit to corner Meg, although Raoul never said anything.

Since the police had last visited and informed Raoul that Erik was not The Phantom of the Operea he had spent an insurmountable amount of time cursing the inepitude of the police department, and although Christine would offer words of comfort and reassurances that she was safe, he never seemed convinced. On occasion she did wonder if Raoul suspected her feelings for Erik and her unhappiness of being unable to perform, but ever the gentleman he never addressed it.

Christine had also noted that he was also starting to drink much more than she was comfortable with. That wasn't to say Raoul was a drunk, but his whisky intake had certainly increased since the incident at the Met. Christine waited to be scolded for her failure to be dressed appropriately for dinner, but instead he looked at her with sad eyes. She watched him prepare to decant another glass of whisky, before letting out a tired sigh. He looked exhausted. Instead of pouring the liquid the decanter hovered above the glass.

Christine cautiously moved acriss the room and then took the decanter from his hands, replacing the top carefully before putting it back on the silver tray. Her husband turned to her, the morose look in his eyes appeared to reflect an overwhelming feeling of defeat.

"I've tried", he mumbled with downcast eyes clutching his wife's hands, "I've tried so hard".

"I know, my love". She raised his hands to her lips and gave a light kiss upon his knuckles. "You needn't try anymore. I am safe. _We_ are safe"

Little did she know, that wasn't what he was talking about.

\--xXx--

* * *

**_A/N - _****_massive thanks to those who have favourited and to Kimberly84 for my only review :)_**

* * *


	8. VIII: The sujet

Meg had been dancing en pointe since she was 10 years old, and although she loved the graceful movements and slyph-like appearance the technique produced she was starting to notice the signs of wear and damage to her feet.

As she unwound each binding she carefully inspected her oxygen deprived skin, paying particular attention to each tear looking for traces of blood. After removing the lambs wool she had placed between her toes and in the bottom of her shoes she carefully began to massage her toes. Each time she danced en pointe it was becoming more and more painful. Older ballerinas, her mother included, had told her that the longer you dance en ponte the tighter the binding needed to be, but Meg found that regardless of how tightly she bound her feet and regardless of how much wool she used to try and cushion the pressure, each time she danced there was more blood, more joint pain and the longer it took to recover.

Meg knew the consequences of dancing en pointe, after all, she had grown up seeing her mother's feet and watching other ballerinas bathe their own in various foul smelling liquids. She had even seen some bathe their bindings in cold water before application as it was meant to speed up healing - something Meg never really understood as she always found that water made the skin more supple and prone to tearing - instead she had opted for warming the fabric slightly by pushing it into her bodice.

Meg flinched as she placed her feet on the cool wooden floor of her dressing room. She felt a burning sensation in the balls of her feet and considered whether the few steps to the basin would be as painful as she anticipated. She knew that she needed to rinse her bindings in the basin before the blood dried, otherwise she would need to wash them with powder. She cringed at the memory of last time she danced with freshly washed linens; the fabric was far too stiff and her feet had been covered in so many blisters and sores her mother had refused to let her dance for almost a week.

Reluctantly she made her way to the basin and rinsed the linen, draping the fabric strips over the exposed water pipe, and selected a cushion from the Louis XIV style chair against the wall.

The cushion in question was covered in beautiful embroidery and beading. She had never taken much time to ispect the details of her dressing room's decor, but something seemed familiar about the colours and patterns. It was primailry black with deep purples, golds and greens, with an oriential pattern surrounded swirls of goldern threading. She ran her hand over the smooth satin fabric and considered where she would've seen something simular. It must have been at the Populaire, possibly one of the performances, but she couldn't identify which production it would have been. Accepting she probably would never remember she placed the cushionpattern side down on the floor so she could rest her feet upon the smooth side. She hoped the smooth fabric and cushioning would give her some resbite from the pain in her feet.

Meg carefully wiped the cold cream across her face, ensuring that she avioded her eyes. She had learnt from experience that if even the smallest amount found ots way into her eyes the urning sensation could be almost unbearable, not forgetting the possibilty that they would become bloodshot if not bathed quickly enough. That would hardly be an attractive or appealing look. She picked up her washcloth to wipe her face when there was a harsh rap at the door.

"One moment" she called as she quickly rubbed her face. She was about to call for her visitor to enter before she remembered the current appearance of her feet. Suddenly panicking that her guest would see them she quickly threw down the washcloth to ensure they were covered. "Come in".

She had been expecting Oliver. Since she had secured the position as prima ballerina, and therefore the title role of Aurora in Sleeping Beauty, Oliver had become the ballet's biggest fan. He attended almost every rehersal, sometimes sneakinginto the auditoriumand sitting in the shadows and sometimes convincing the stage hands to allow him to watch from the wings (she was sure money must have passed hands). He showered her with praise, flowers and small trinkets of congratulations, her favourite being an ornate silver hand mirror.

But when the door opened isn't wasn't Oliver that stood in the doorway, instead it was an extremely tall and imposing figure wearing a white porcelain mask.

It had been over a week since the pair had spoken, and her mother had all but forbade her from even mentioning his name. When she saw Erik standing in the doorway of her dressing room Meg was overcome with shame as memories of their last encounter and her behaviour came to the forefront of her mind.

Meg shifted uncomfortably in her chair, turning away from her vistor to look back at the mirror. She began to feel agitated, and the last thing she wanted was for Erik to see how uncomfortable his presence was making her. Momentarily she considered why she felt so agitated around him; was it his general persona and his history of violence, embarrassment and shame at their last encounter, or something else entirely?

Meg knew that she needed to occup her hands so that Erik wouldn't see how uncomfortable his presence was making her, and most importantly she didn't want him to misread the situation- even though she was unaware herself - so she decided to apply another layer of cold cream, except she didn't do so with the same dilligance as before.

The young ballerina stood swiftly in a fervent attempt to make it to the basin to bathe her eye,but she had forgotten the satin pillow she was using as a rest for her feet. As she stood the pillow slipped away and one of her feet became tangled in the disregarded, and also forgotten , washcloth, causing her to fall forward. Meg instinctively reached out her hands to braced herself for impact, but instead felt a tight grip on her arm and her body being pulled sharply into an upright position.

"For a prima ballerina that was incredibly ungraceful" Erik said in a hushed tone, his voice betraying how close he was standing to her.

Meg abruptly tugged her arm away from her guest and hurried to the wash basin. As she splashed the cold water against her eye the burning began to subside, and was replaced by the hot sensation in her feet as well as a dull ache starting to eminate from her arShe felt slightly irritated; the last thing she needed was visable bruising, certainly not bruising that could be attributed to fingers: she didn't need that type of gossip in her life.

Without even glancing at the man standing next to her Meg hurried back to her dressing table and rested her head in her hands. She felt like crying out of exasperation, but knew if she did Erik's vist would be extended, and she really hoped Erik would go, or at the very least say his piece.

She could feel a headache coming on and began to rub her temples. Without looking up she opened one of the drawers and removed a bottle of Vin Marinani. She didn't have a glass to hand and knew it would be unladylike to take a swig, so she quickly glanced at the mirror to see where Erik was.

Erik was standing, with his back to her, by the basin. He was clearly engrossed in whatever he was doing, so Meg decided it was safe to take a quick swig of the liquid before placing it back in the draw. By now she had turned to watch her friend in the mirror and her mind began to wonder - she recalled the feeling of her hands beneath his jacket, beneath his shirt and how she had felt the muscles in his back tense when she touched his skin. Her face began to flush at the memory - both out of embarrassment and the increasing feeling of lust growing in the pit of her abdomen.

She averted her gaze when he turned round to face her holding a bowl of water.

The next thing that happened was truly bizarre, for Erik had come to her dressing table and placed the bowl of water in front of her feet. He cupped her foot with both hands and slowly lowered it into the water.

"What are you doing?" she stuttered, instinctively pulling her foot away.

"Your feet are sore from dancing and you need to bathe them. I took the liberty of using some of the petals from your roses to make a rose water mixture " she eyed him skeptically and considered her options.

He was kneeling in front of her, meaning he was in prime position to be kicked in the jaw. He certainly deserved it for crossing the line of propriety; he was an unmarried man in her dressingroom unchaperoned, touching her in an overly familiar way. Of course, they had been in a much more indelicate situation before, but as neither of them dared address the elephant in the room she assumed they were pretending the incident had never occured. Kicking the phantom of the opera in the jaw, even jovially, would be risking his wrath - but the sight would be amusing. She chuckled to herself causing Erik to look at her questioningly, before he rose and moved the Louis XIV chair to sit next to her.

The pair sat in an awkward silence. Meg was starting to get annoyed - she wanted to know why he had come to see her and why he didn't just leave after congratulating her. Her mind began running with various scenarios: was he here because he wanted to discuss their tryst but was unable, or too embarrassed, to bring it up, was he here for.work purposes but the awkward nature.of theor relationship was making his business dealings harder, or was he here because he wanted to be near her? Of all the senarios none of them made her feel particularly comfortable, and if you put that with her dislike of silence she was once again beginning to feel very agitated.

Erik was equally perplexed by the continued silence. He knew Meg behave awkwardly when in silent situations - he had seen it many a time, and had found it downright irritating when he wanted to woo Christone but the girl was barely alone because of her friend's (Meg's) endless chatter. Oh, he missed Christine. The last time he had been in a woman's dressingroom was when he was courting Christine- thats if you can even call their interactions courting. In a desperate attempt to find something to distract him from Christine he scanned the room, noticing a beautifully ornate silver mirror resting on the table and, without asking - much to Meg's surprise - he picked it up and began to inspect it.

"It's beautiful isn't it?", she didn't await an answer, "Oliver gave it to me as a congratulatory gift for being made prima ballerina. I love the petals design and the way the gems and stones complement eachother."

"It is a beautiful piece". He put it down, but the expression on his face implied she didn't agree.

She waited for his critique, but instead found that they continued to sit an an awkward silence. Finally she conceeded defeat,

"Erik, why are you here?" she finally asked,

"I saw your rehersal and I wanted to let you know that you were truly outstanding", but no sooner had he finished he glanced at her feet and continued, "especially now that I know the damage dancing does to the feet",

"I am afraid ugly feet are part of being a female ballet dancer, as men don't go en ponte their feet never look this bad"

"Maybe so, but that doesn't mean I have to approve". She raised her eyebrows questioningly in response,it didn't matter whether he approved.of her dancing en pointe or not, he was in no position to pass such a judgement and she knew that his confession that he didn't know what a ballet dancer's feet suffered showed that he knew very little about technqiue. Seeing her puzzled expression Erik decided that it would be best to clarify what he meant, he didn't want her thinking he believe he had autjority over her, "what I mean dear Meg, is that after seeing the damage dancing en pointe does to feet I will not condone any ballet accomaoniment to my work that includes it"

"Well, you may be the acclaimed composer Mr. Destler, but you cannot change ballet technique"

"I don't see why not"

"I don't even know what to say to such a comment. That is unbelievably arrogant"

"Arrogance is one of my key personality traits". Erik said as he rose to kneel before her. He carefully folded a towel in placed it across his thighs. He gently lifted one of Meg's feet from the water, placed it on the towel and began to dry her foot.

This was a very strange scenario. The Phantom of the Opera was literally at her feet, and he was massaging her foot.

"I have no endearing traits I am afraid"

"that isn't ...",she was going to say 'what I meant', but he cut her off. He lifted her other foot and began to dry it.

"Meg, I owe you an apology for my behaviour the last time we met. I am prone to rash actions when my emotions are high, and my behaviour is unexcusable. I ask for forgiveness, although I understand that you may be unable to give it"

"Mutual forgiveness would be benefical to us both, don't you agree?" she replied with a small smile,

"There is nothing for me to forgive"

"Then we are mutally agreed that neither of us have wronged each other".

Erik looked at the blonde woman in front of him and considered persueing the futile argument. Once again Meg was showing him kindness and compassion he had rarely experienced. Yes, American high society were polite and had embraced him, but they didn't know of his past crimes and he was certain he would be thrown to the curb or turned into the autjorities. Meg, on the otherhand, was kind and compassionate in spite of knowing what he had done.

Absent mindedly he ran his hands up her feet towards her ankle, and then back again, the he became bolder with them runninh up her legs, his thumb tracing light circles along her calf. Meg felt paralysed, she knew what was unfolding and she wasn't sure about what she was.going to do. If she spurnned him then their friendship would be over, but if she accepted hos advances then their friendship would be forever changed. More importantly she wasn't even sure what she wanted. She closed her eyes and leaned forward.

Just before their lips met the door swang open and the sujet came.bouncing through the door.

Erik pushed her feet away as though he had been burnt and stood abruptly.

The woman stood for a moment, her eyes darting between her superior and the gentleman who had been caressing her feet and began to mumble apologies.

Sensing that he needed to once again distancehimsepf from Meg Giry, as well as spare both women in the room some embarrassment, Erik rose his hand to indicate that she needn't apologise.

"I must take my leave. I once again congratulate you on such a delightful rehersal Madomsille Giry", he gave a curt bow towards Meg before turning to face the other girl, "and you also dance divinely - I suspect you will be prima in a few seasons and I shall be watching your career progress with much interest". He took her hand and placed a light kiss upon her knuckles before leaving.

\--xXx--

* * *

Candice, the most senior sujet, stood open mouth after the man left Meg's dressing room.

"Meg - that was Erik Destler. The Erik Destler. I can't believe you never told me that you know Erik Destler?!?"

"He is my mother's oldest friend" Meg replied, attempting to be as nonchalant as possible. Shes turned back to face her mirror and started to remove her hair pins.

"it seemed like he is also your friend". The red-haired ballerina sat on the chair that had previously been occupied by Erik, and strentched her legs so her feet were resting upon Meg's dressing table.

"We are are friends"

"You seemed like more than friends to me", she was now inspecting her nails.

Meg paused, she had been filled with such turmoil since her encounterwith Erik in the hallway and had not confided in anyone; her mother wouldn't even let her mention is name. Surely no harm could come from divulging select details to Candice and providing her with an abridged version of events? It would at least give her some peace to speak of it with another person.

"Well, lets say Erik and I have acted inappropriately towards one and another on occasion, but he is a friend and nothing more. We do not.know each other...intimately ... but we would if things had run their course on one occasion".

Her disclosure was met with a high pitched squeal and clap of excitement that was characteristic of teenage girls - regardless of the time period they hailed from. Meg was slightly taken aback by the immature reacreaction, but as the woman perched closer and leaned towards Meg pushed the feeling of nagging doubt to the back.of her mind.

"Are you going to end your engagement to Oliver in favour of Mr Destler?" her eyes began to look beyond Meg dreamily, " Mr Destler is tall, mysterious, extraordinarily talented, has that increadibly attractive French accent, and he is wealthy - much more so than your Oliver"

Meg sighed as she let her fingers gently trace the pattern on her dressing table, pausing where the mahgony met the birch until her hand stopped at the beautiful handmirror Oliver had given her as a congratulatory present. She stared at the instricate design of coloured glass flowers interwoven with a mother of pearl handle and rim. The gilded silver set against the green and blue glass was meant to symbolise the meeting of their hearts, but Meg didn't understand the gesture. Her mother had suggested that the colours may have represented their eyes, but Meg wasn't so sure, she doubted Oliver's ability to make sure a romantic overature.

The prima ballerina turned over the mirror to gaze at her reflection. She stood staring at herself for a few moments before turning to her colleague, "no Candice, I am not going to end my engagement with Oliver, although I am certain that if he knew about the nature of Erik and I's relationship he certainly would. Therefore, I ask thay you don't speak of this to anyone"

"I may have an attraction of sorts towards Erik, Erik himself doesn't want me. I remind him of days gone by and of the woman he wants. She was my best friend and is everything I am not: she is very beautiful and enhantingly niavë, or at least she was before she was married, with one of the most beautiful singing voices I have ever heard. Erik would do _anything_ for her",

"He did so much to try and win her heart, he taught her to sing, fed her confidence and showered her with gifts. She became who she is because of him. Raoul would never have recognised her if she had stayed in the corp du ballet with me, it was only because of Erik's interference that she performed that night".

She looked at the red-haired ballerina sadly. "Erik has never given much credence to dancing. Back in Paris he was always criticising the corp du ballet - I have no idea why my mother tolerated it - especially as they were meant to be friends. He believes true talent is found in music not dance, which is why he became enamoured with Christine.

"I'm sure what actually happened, but I know Erik confessed his feelings to her and she rejected him and went off and married Raoul. And then cut all ties with me. She was like a sister to me and then she shunned me because I didn't fit into her new world"

Candice tilted her head and gave a slightly lopsided smile. "Well, this Christine sounds wholly ungreatful"

Meg forced a huff out of nose. "She's not. Not really", shaking her head, "you don't know the things Erik has done".

That sparked Candice's interest, "then you are correct. You are jealous".

* * *

Candice stood outside the enterence to the theatre waiting for her brother. Although the day had been bright a chilled autumn breeze reminded her of how foolish she had been not to bring a shawl.

She waited patiently hugging her arms.to her body in an attempt to keep the cold a bay, but she desperately hoped her brother would act like a gentleman and lend her his cape when he arrived. She was surprised that when he did appear he was carrying a shawl, and that the picture of him in his uniform carrying a shawl made her smile.

"How'd you know I would need that?"

"I saw it on the table this morning when I was fixing breakfast and realised you wouldnt have it. It is cold, so I knew you would need it". The man held out his arm and his sister willingly took it as he escorted her back home.

They had fallen into this routine following the death of his wife and his return to the family home. Their mother had become unwell with consumption and Candice was going to give up dancing to care for her, but instead her elder brother had returned home to help lift the burden and share the nursing responsibilities with Candice

"You wint believe who I met today?"

"A pateon of some sort?"

"No, well he may be a patron, I'm not sure. I met Erik Destler. The Erik Destler, and he said he thought I would be a. rima balleria in a few seasons - isn't that marvelous?".

"Erik Destler?"

"Yes, Erik Destler, the composer"

"I see. He charmed you I assume?"

"Yes, well no, I am certain there is something going on between Meg and him though, she denies it and says they are friends, but I know there is more".

"Who is Meg?" he enquired as he pulled her slightly closer to him to aviod two drunk men sitting in the gutter.

"urgh, dont you ever listen to me? Meg is the prima ballerina. She told me that Erik - Mr Destler - was in love with her friend Crystal in France and that he doesn't care for her in thay way. But I saw it. She denies it, but it is clear there is something going on between them"

The pair stopped at the bottom of the steps to their small rented house.

Detective Poole bid his sister goodnight.

* * *


	9. IX: Questioning

* * *

Detective Poole was unsure as to whether Meg Giry would still be at the theatre, afterall it had been almost two hours since he had bid his sister goodnight. But the conversation with his sister had peaked his interest in the relationship between the Vicomte and Erik Destler.

As the company were preparing for opening night the theatre was a hive of activity. He noted front of house staff busying themselves with posters and signs, so much so he was able to gain entry to the auditorium without being stopped.

He had visited this particular theatre more times than he cared to count; sometimes.it had been due to his sister's presence in the company and their performances, but more often than not it was due drunken or lecherous behaviour caused by patrons or stage crew.

He hung back into the shadows watching the activity on the stage. He had seen a picture of Meg Giry on one of the large posters in the foyer, and he had to admit that if it matched her likness she certainly would be beautiful.

It didn't take long for him to notice the young woman leaning over the barrier to the orchestra pit, clearly in conversation with someone. He waited for a few minutes watching her body language become increasingly animated before she threw her arms upwards in exasperation.

Poole couldn't believe his luck when she began to march towards him. As she approached the detective stepped out from the shadows, causing the ballerina to step backwards in surprise.

"Good evening Miss Giry, my name is Dectective Poole. I have some questions for you regarding Erik Destler".

Meg rolled her eyes, and sat down in one of the aisle seats, gesturing him to follow suit. "I don't know how much I can tell you about him sir. He is one of my mother's friends. They were acquainted in France and have become reacquainted since bumping into one and another a few weeks back"

"So you have known each other a long time? You can vouch for his character?"

"I haven't _personally_ known him a long time, but my mother has. I can vouch for his character for the duration that both he and I have been personally aquanited". It wasn't a lie - she knew of Erik's crimes but they hadn't been formally introduced to one another during the height of his Christine obsession, and as far as she was aware he hadn't done anything untoward since they had been on the transatlantic voyage.

"I see" the detective hummed, "what can you tell me of his relationship with the Vicomtess de Chagny?

**"**Oh**, **well I don't know much of it. I believe they knew each other in Paris. Her husband, who was courting her at the time, didn't like him"

Interesting - the obvious animosity between the two men go back several years as is to do with the young Victomtess. "And how do you know that? About the Vicomte?"

"Christine and I were friends"

"And she and Mr Destler were friends, but you were never aquainted with him?"

Merde. She inwardly cursed herself for the slip. "Are you aquainted with all of your friend's acquaintances Detective Poole? For I am not. Who my friends wish to spend their time with is their own busines"

"Very true, very true" he muttered noting her hostility in her voice, "and how did you and the Vicomtess become friends?"

"We were friends before she was a Vicomtess. My mother taught us both to dance. I am afraid that our friendship is a terribly clichéd story of two young girls drifting apart due to one of them falling in love"

"I see. Did you know that the Vicomte believes that Mr Destler is a pseudony for a man known as The Phantom of the Opera, or the Opera Ghost? I've looked into this mysterious person and I can confirm that he is a murderer - and the most wanted man in Paris. The Victomte also claims this Phantom kidnapped his wife. He says that is why the Vicomtess fainted at the gala"

"If Erik kidnapped Christine don't you think I would have known?"

"Yes, I do".

Meg furrowed her brow. She knew the Detective suspected, or at least he thought he suspected, something that had an element of truth in it. "What exactly are you implying Detective Poole?"

"I'm not implying anything. I _know_ that you and Mr Destler are hiding something"

Meg paused, she knew she had moments to decide what to. The Detective knew, or at least accurately suspected, that Erik was The Phantom.

"You are partially right. Erik, Mr. Destler, and I are, lets say, _romantically_ involved. I've been denying it to protect my reputation and my relationship with my fiancé as Erik is not a viable option.

As for the Vicomte, Raoul is obsessed with Christine, and he always has been. They have known eachother since they were children and he has been infatuated with her since then - I recall something about him loving her from the moment he saved a scarf from the sea. It has been a long infatuation and I do believe he is a jealous man.

I don't know what this Phantom of the Opera nonsense is, but the only thing Mr. Destler is hiding is that he and I have been engaging in _intimate_ activities. I am engaged to another, and do no intend on ending that engagement. Also, Detective, as I have already mentioned - Erik is one of my mother's friends and we have been going to great lengths to ensure she is not aware of our relationship. Now, does my candidness answer your questions?"

"Yes Miss Giry, your candidness does". Poole furrowed his eyebrows. Candice certainly believed that Miss Giry and Mr. Destler were romantically involved, and her confession certainly supported that.

"Now, Detective, I believe you have pried into my private affairs enough. It is getting late and I really need to rest in preparation for our premier tomorrow". Meg rose from her seat and offered her hand.

"I understand Miss Giry", he joined her standing before taking her hand and giving it a brief shake

As both the prima balleria and Detective left neither noticed the man standing in the shadows. He decided that it was about time everyone knew the true story behind the Phantom of the Opera.

* * *

**_A/N - more Christine coming up._**

**_Just moving everyone into position._**


	10. X: A Plan

It had taken almost an hour for Oliver to regain enough control of his emotions following the revelation he had overheard in the auditorium. Normally, he did not easily rise to temper but given the circumstances he felt his uncharacteristic mood was more than understandable.

As he made his way back to his apartment he mentally cursed himself for having been oblivious to his fiancée's duplicity. Part of him didn't want to believe what he had heard, didnt want to believe that Meg - the woman he loved - had betrayed him. He knew she was no shrinking violet, afterall she was an actress- and a good one - but he had believed every proclamation of never ending love and had cherished each and every romantic interlude.

His anger once again began to surface and in a moment of frustration he lashed out at the wall of an apartment block. The pain he felt on impact plus the stinging of the fresh cuts on his knuckles brought him some reprieve from the emotional pain he was feeling,but he knew it was only momentarily.

With a hefty sigh Oliver rested his back against the wall, allowing his head to fall back gazing towards the sky. With another deep breath and heavy heart he closed his eyes and tried to recall every interaction he had witnessed between Meg and Erik. He recalled how Madame had chastised Meg for her flirtatous behaviour and the had witnessed the occasional smile passing between the pair, but try as he might he couldn't recall anything that indicated their relationship was improper - but Meg was a good actress.

He began to wonder why Meg would've continued to allow him to court her when Erik Destler was a more suitable match in terms of status and wealth. Granted he was older than her and a friend of her mother's, but such a union was hardly unheard of. Why was she using him and playing within affections in such a cruel way? How could she be so heartless?

It had taken all of Oliver's self control not to march to the Giry's home to demand an explanation and end their engagement. Instead he formed a darker plan; he may not be a genius, but Oliver was not an unintelligent man.

Meg had told Oliver that she had known Christine de Chagny from her time in Paris, and that the Victomtess and herself had not parted ways on best terms.

It hadn't taken much coaxing for Meg to divulge that Erik had taught the Victomess to sing and that the Vicomte, named Raoul, believed Christine harboured feelings for her former tutor. She had explained that she had spoken to her former friend following the incident at the theatre and that they had not parted on good terms.

Oliver knew what he needed to do: he would visit Christine and voice concerns about his fiancée's wellbeing and pain over their last parting, and request she comes to watch Meg's latest debut. If Oliver had read the situation correctly he was certain that Destler would be there and Christine would eagerly accept the invitation. All he would need to do is watch the situation unfold.


	11. XI: A Letter

**_A/N - another short one. In my origional plan 10, 11 and 12 were all in 10, but upon re reading I felt it worked better to seperate them_**

**_Thanks to Sittol77 for my second review._**

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Raoul re-read the last few sentences of the letter before sealing the envelope and carefully copied the address from the last letter he had recieved. Judging by the receiptant's current location he clearly believed their plan would come to fruitiation and he would be a wealthy man once more. Raoul felt a twinge of guilt as he looked at the now sealed envelope on the desk; ending their association would certainly be the most honourable move, but he felt a burning need to be free of his shackles and he couldn't forsee another opportunity presenting itself anytime soon. Plus, he did feel strangly endebted to the man.

Upon standing he checked his pocket watch and was disappointed to see that it was too early for a brandy. Far too early infact. He had promised Christine that he would curb his drinking, and be ause he could hear her singing in the other room he knew he needed to keep his with about him.

He knew that denying her music was cruel, but his mother had been quite clear that the Vicomtess was not to sing or dance in public. At first Raoul had been relieved: he saw it as the forceful distancing of Christine from the Phantom that would squash any feelings that his lovely wife had for that man, but he quickly saw how badly his denile of her passion caused changes in his new wife. It had started slowly; he had noticed Christine singing extracts of arias when she believed herself to be alone, then she started hum "past the point of no return" and he had planned to confront her, but he stopped when he saw that she would drift into days of melancholy, especially after they spent time with his family.

Their own staff were always professional, but he knew what they said about his "pretty little wife" and the Opera Ghost. He had fully intended to dismiss the entire staff after he had found Christine crying in the drawing room clinging to a portrait of her father mumbling how none of it was true and how she had remained chaste and pure. It had been her kind words of understanding that had prevented him turning them onto the streets that very night, "afterall", she had said "they only know what they've been told".

He loved his wife deeply, but he knew she wasn't happy. He had to deny her music as his mother instructed - for she would be shame to the great de Chagny name - and any indication of impropriety on "that girl's part" would result in the severance of Raoul's inheritance.

When he had first been approached by the messieurs Firmin and André requesting his assistance in rebuilding their reputation he had immediately assumed that they wanted either money or for Christine to take the position of prima donna. Of course he knew she would need to decline as his family would never allow a de Chagny to take the stage. A few years ago he would've offered a hefty patronage to subdue their lust for fortune, but with his mother constant threats about hus own inheritance he dared not spend as lavishly as before, hoping that if such events did come to pass he would have some money to provide for them.

"No Monsieur Vicomte, you misunderstand", Fermin had said as he offered his guest a glass of whisky. The hotel restaurant was nowhere near as lavish as the one Raoul currently dined in but it was still respectable. He had taken the glass reluctantly unsure of the men's motive for the meeting if they didn't want his money. "You see Monsieur Vicomte - Raoul - your lovely wife's story and your courtship is tied to the Opera House. Your family's position may have subdued some of the press but Paris still gossips".

Raoul tentatively placed his glass down and glared at the man in front of him waiting for him to continue.

"You see, that awfully debauched opera that was performed, well it has taken paris by storm, and news of it has even travelled to England. It seems that a scandalous opera combined with a scandal is the way forward. It takes what those of lower class find interesting about music halls and combines it with the magnificence anf decadence of opera.

We have an opportunity to become very wealthy men, you Andre and I". Raoul had moved to protest and remind the man of his position but Fermin had continued seemingly oblivious to the insult he had just cast, "Like most of Paris we are aware of your mother's threats to disinherit you and we can give you am opportunity to become financially independent from the ties of your family name. We offer you a buisness opportunity"

Once again he stared at the letter sitting on the desk considering whether he should summon a servant to send it or rip it to shreds. He reminded himself that all he did was for his and Christine's future, but he couldn't shift the awful feeling that was growing in the pit of his stomach.

\--xXx--

The rest of the day had passed uneventfully until a young man claiming to be Meg Giry's fiancé had arrived and requested he speak with Christine.

Detective Poole had told him the nature of Meg's relationship with the Opera Ghost, but seeing the young man who the woman had betrayed made him feel nauseous. Christine's eagerness to recieve him followed by her crestfallen appearance when Oliver had entered had not been missed by Raoul. He knew who who his wife believed to be engaged to Madomsille Giry and he knew she was disappointed that it wasn't Erik Destler standing in front of her. Standing solemnly he felt a strange sense of kinship with the young man; they both loved women enamoured by the damn Opera Ghost.

Raoul took notice of how the young man dressed, he was clearly for work, which Raoul assumed was something relating to finance, probably a clerk, with a dark blue frock coat, white winged chirt and a dark cravat. He felt slightly pertrubed by how he was clutching a warn silk hat with both hands in front of him, as tbough he was using it to shield himself from the couple whom he addressed, and Raoul started to wonder whether he truly came across as intimidating. His mother and Phillppe had oft criticised him for not holding himself with an heir of nobility - where Americans so culturally deprived that he was considered intimidating?

It hadn't taken the man long to explain the purpose of his visit. He recounted his concern for Meg's wellbeing and her overwhelming sadness and regret over his fiancée's last encounter with Christine. Raoul noticed that Christine had become uneasy at the mention of "their last encounter" but this seemed to ease as soon as Oliver suggested they attend Megs debut.

Raoul could never deny Christine. Everything he had done since that fateful meeting with André and Fermin had been for Christine and their future.

He was relieved that they only had four more days in this God awful country and then they would depart for Europe and hopefully everything he had set in motion would come to pass.


	12. XII: Grand Jêtê

As Christine surveyed the theatre she felt slightly disappointed. She hadn't expected the grandour of the Paris Opera House, but she had never expected something so totally and utterly underwhelming.

During her stay in London she had become accustomed to theatres having ornate carvings, colourful plaster work with lush burgandy red velvet seating. There had been a theatrical revolution following the publication of _Dramaticus_ and the removal of licence only being issues to Patent theatre companies. The city saw several new theatres being built in Covent Garden to accomdate the growing middleclass and the new found respectability of theatre. Unlike opera, theatre had never really been considered an appropriate past time for members of London's high society due to the growth of melodrama and burlesque caused by the licensing laws, but the relaxation of these laws combined with the growth of the middle class and more "gentlemanly" plays theatre had become a past time supported by British aristocracy.

The last theatre she had visited in London was D'Oyly Carte's The Savoy. Christine had been astonished by the abundance of electric lighting that illuminated every room she had seen. Although electric lighting was something she had become accustomed to as a Vicomtess, she had never seen a theatre or opera house fully lit by them. She had been eagerly informed that The Savoy was the first public place in the entire world to be fully fittedwith electric lighting, which only added to her awe.

In comparison this theatre was somewhat bland.There were carvings of cherubs and angels and the colours used were complimentary, but she felt it was all rather bland. She had started to understand why Raoul seemed to dislike the country so much; it lacked the refinement of Europe.

As the lights dimmed the chatter the auditorium died down. Remembering the rules of decorum Christine placed both her hands neatly on her lap and gave her husband a brief smile. She longed to reach over and place her hand in his, but she knew such acts of affection were considered vulgar and that the Doweger Comtess would almost certainly find out.

Christine did not consider herself an expert on ballet, but as a former member of a corps she was better placed then most to watch the performance with a critical eye. She had noticed a red haired ballerina who had particularly good technique and a small blonde girl who fumbled most landings. As she watched the red haired woman perform, who she was certain was the sujet, she felt a strong sense of nostegla for her time in the corps.

Once the sujet had finished her solo Meg graced the stage with a presence Christine had never before witnessed. Her solo was certainly more complex then that of the sujet due to the sheer number of jêtês and sissones. The music began to swell and the tempo increased leading upto Meg's finale. Unknown to the audience Meg was to perform a grande jêtê in the direction of the spindle used to lure Aurora to her fate, followed immediately by the fouette and then her collapse into a place of living death.

As she watched the prima ballerina start to embark on the scene's dramatic finale Christine immediately knew what was going to happen. He hand covered her mouth to stifle her gasp and hushed 'no' as she saw Meg crumple to the ground.

Her years in the corps du ballet meant she knew Meg had not landed well. Ballet rats were taught how to fall so that they didn't do themselves any lasting damage, of course accidents happened, but generally the corps at the Paris Opera house were adept at self-recovery thanks to the teachings of their ballet mistress.

Christine watched with a hitched breath as Meg stood and nodded to the maestro. She noticed that Meg's foot was not flat against the floor and began to shake her head.

"Please dont" she whispered leaning forward clutching the front of the box, "don't do it". Outwardly she was begging while inwardly praying that Meg would see sense and not try to continue, let alone repeat the move.

Christine was so focused on her pleas and her prayer that she didn't hear her husband question her mutterings. Instead she continued to repeat "please" in a tone akin to a whisper. When the music swelled she closed her eyes, unable to watch what was about to unfold.

\--xxx--

* * *

"More champagne my friend?" chirped Nadir from Erik's side, haphazardly waving the bottle annoyingly close to Erik's face.

"It always bemuses me that you insist on drinking alcohol when the God you seek to please forbids it"

"Ah, but you forget Allah is forgiving!" the former Daroga of Mazenderan stated while rising to his feet in a considerably unsteady fashion.

"You never answered me! Do you want another?" he asked while trying to steady himself on the ledge of the box.

Erik shifted his chair further away from his friend in response. It wasn't often that the Daragoa drank in excess, but he was determined to enjoy the free flowing beverages that were being granted in an attempt to woo Mr Destler into working with the theatre. At first Nadir had coaxed Erik into having a couple of glasses, highlighting how ungentlemanly they would seem to their host if he refused, then he had opted for a "milk the idiots for all we can get".

Erik's eyes travelled around the auditorium searching for people he recognised. He noticed Antionette sitting with the managers and Meg's gentleman friend. Antionette looked quite handsome, and had on this occasion worn her hair pin curls rather than a tightly pulled bun. Megs gentleman Oliver appeared sterner than before, but was dressed in a typical middle class atire in a grey frock, a darker coloured waistcoat and a dark bowtie.

He continued to gaze and search - there was one of the society women who took every opportunity to reference his "extremly long fingers and seductive hands". The first time she had spoken to him he'd dropped his wine glass out of shock and almost bolted from the room. He also noticed the Scottish gentleman who wanted him to compose a score to accompany a new interpretation of Macbeth, wbich was something that had stimulated his interest, but he highly doubted the English would approve of an adaption of Shakespeare that didn't follow the origional script.

As the lights began to dim he notice Christine. He inwardly cursed himself for not starting his assessment of the crowd on that side of the auditorium.

Christine looked like a vision of heaven in a elegant white gown with a lace trim that covered her decolletage. She wore her hair in ringlets pinned with floral combs and Erik longed to inhale the scent of her hair as he had done the night of her debut, the scent of rose and jasmine lingering in his memory. He tried his hardest to ignore the Vicomte sitting next to her, but he couldn't deny the disdain he felt for the young man who had captured his angels heart.

Erik considered the ballet to be quite mundane before Meg Giry graced the stage. Meg certainly had star quality, and although he had always considered her talented, but he was surprised by how accomplished she had become. Every move seeped passion, every glance and smile towards the audience shared further emotion that her dancing could not express. He watched every graceful movement, every line created with her body and was drawn into a trance. Meg's gentleman friend was right: her dancing would be a more than sutiable accompaniment to his music.

Like the majority of the audience Erik had not forseen Meg's fall, but unlike the majority he did notice that her foot was not in the correct position before retried.

\--xxx--

* * *

Meg was trying to hold back tears as two male members of the corps helped her off stage and to her dressing room. The two men helped her to the fainting couch and elevated her leg. One fetched a damped towel and wrapped it around her ankle before telling her that the stage manager had sent for a doctor.

Although the men apologised that they couldn't stay Meg was relieved. As soon as the door clicked shut she allowed her tears to fall. The throbbing pain combined with the humiliation and the rising feeling of nausea had simply become too much.


	13. XIII: Lies

It was surprisingly easy for Christine to manouever her way through the pits to the dressing rooms. She knew from experience it was easy for well-dressed men to gain access, but she was surprised that noone stopped her. She had been prepared to flirt her way through any male reissiatnce and grace the hands of women with a few pieces of the strange American paper money she had taken from Raoul's nightstand. The only time she was questioned about her presence had been when she had been standing in a long corridor lined with doors and must've appeared utterly lost. A short stage hand with sandy blonde hair and a thick English accent had approached her and offered her help. He had personally escorted her directly to Meg's dressing room and had obstinately refused payment. When they had first arrived in the Americas Raoul had been excited, but as time passed he appeared.to pick up a strong distaste for the country's inhabitants; he had told her several times that all "these American types" were interested in was the quickest way to fleece a gentleman of his money and that they had no qualms in discussing finance openly in such a garish way. The stage hand's actions had certainly proven Raoul wrong, but she knew Raoul would've had very little interaction with anyone of that man's class: maybe it was only the upper echelons of society that behaved in such a garish manner?

Christine raised her hand to knock on Meg's door before pausing to consider the wiseness of her actions. They hadn't parted on good terms and she doubted she would be welcome with open arms.If she was honest with herself Christine understood Meg's anger; she had purposely distanced herself from her best friend to please both Raoul and his family. Raoul had never outrightly objected to her friendship with Meg, or anyone from her previous life as a member of the corps du ballet and prima donna, but she was not blind to the attitude of his family. To please Raoul she hd done all she could to ingratiate herself with the Doweger Comtess, but she knew it would never be enough. What was the point in continuing to ignore those she cared for if it served no purpose? Why forsake herself happiness when those she sought to please didn't consider her happiness a matter of importance?

With a new resolved and adjusted outlook, she knocked.

Upon seeing her friend Christine felt a stron sense of uneasiness and sickness rising from within her. Her mouth became dry and her heart pounded. She hadn't been expecting to be welcomed with open arms, but the expression on Meg's face combined with the sharpness of her words felt like a dagger to her heart.

"The Vicomtess de Chagny has decided to grace me with her presence, I see".

The prima ballerina was laying on the opposite end of the fainting couch, one leg elevated against the arm with a damp towel wrapped around it. Her white stocking were laddered on both sides and her blue satin romantic style tutu was bunched at the top of her thighs. Christine had thought her costume beautiful from afar, but seeing the iridescent beading and silver threading that ran up the skirt to the bodice made her realise how stunning it was.

Choosing to ignore the snide comment Christine walked to the basin and fetched Meg a glass of water.

"Are you cold? You look pale", she didn't await a response before collecting the throw that was draped over Meg's dressing chair and placed it over her friend. With a small smile she moved the chair next to the other woman's side, "have they fetched a doctor?"

"I believe they have sent a runner for one. I shan't need one though as I am certain that it is only a sprain". Chriatine was unsure as to whether Meg's confidence in her assumption was due to her experience living among dancers who had suffered simular accidents, or was her way of trying to convince herself that the injury wasn't too severe. For a ballet dancer a broken bone could easily end one's career, and although Meg may be able to instruct younger dancers her career was not established enough for her to make a name for herself as a ballet mistress.

"Are you sure?", Christine asked with some reservation, as she was fearful of offending the prima ballerina, "I mean - it was a dramatic fall"

"I don't need to be reminded of my humiliation" Meg snapped causing Christineto flinch slightly, "Is that why you are here? To mock me?".

Meg knew her words were harsh; Christine had only shown her kindness since she entered the room and hadn't given any indication that her motive was anything other than altruistic. Christine had always been kind and regardless of the resentment and hurt that Meg held onto since their departure at the Opera House she knew that Christine's personality would not have been inherently changed.

She hadn't meant her response to be as sharp as it had sounded, but the throbbing pain in her ankle was starting to intensify, her mind was becoming foggy with the pain and the nausea was returning, all causing her to speak before thinking.

"No! I am here because I saw you fall and I was worried. I don't want you to suffer" the Vicomtess replied hastily reaching out to take Meg's hand, "and really the humiliation isn't that great. Even the greatest dancers fall". She squeezed Meg's hand gently and offered her a sympathetic smile.

There was a long pause as she waited for a terse response, but when none came she continued, "I met your gentleman friend today. His name is Oliver"

"Yes", Meg responded pulling her hand free of Christine's. She knew that a confrontation of sorts was coming the moment her friend had stepped into the room.

"Not Erik",

"No, his name is not Erik". She did feel ashamed that she had misled her friend and probably caused her some distress, but she also believed it was time for both Erik and Christine to let each other go.

"You lied to me"

"I did not lie", technically true.

"I thought you were with Erik"

"I never said that", again technically true.

"But you let me believe it. A lie by omission is still a lie Meg"

"Maybe so", she muttered before turning her head away. Meg mentally cursed herself for her abrupt behaviour, Christine was the kindest person she had ever met and nothing she ever did was with ill-will. The whole affair at the Opera House and her relationship with Erik hadn't been her doing, and although Erik had shown her kindness he had treated Christine appallingly. Christine wasn't to blame for any of that, she was niavë and Erik had been swept up in his loneliness and desire for perfection that he had manipulated her friend using her deeply held beliefs as a linchpin.

Meg didn't feel the need to tbe conversation to continue in this vein, so she instead enquired after the condition of her ankle. Christine, like herself, had seen various injuries while in the corps, so she would be able to hazard a guess as to the severity of it.

Of course Christine had initially protested stating her lack of medical knowledge, but she conceeded once Meg reminded her of the time they saw one of the male dancers land with such force his bone peirced the skin. That incident had resulted in several of the girls fainting and La Sorelli running from the stage to empty her stomach, but Christine had remaimed and spoke words of comfort to the young man until he had been helped off the stage. She had knelt beside him, once again showing kindness beyond what anyone would've expected.

Christine had carefully unwound the damp towel that the other dancers had wrapped around Meg's ankle, but as soon as she looked upon the discoloured, bruised and swollen skin she suspected the injury to be more severe than a simple sprain.

"Well?", Meg probed with raised eyebrows.

"I don't mean to alarm you, but I'm going to fetch the doctfetcYou are quite pale and your ankle is very swollen", she was about to.turn when she heard a voice behind her.

"There is no need".

Standing in the doorway was a portly gentleman with a doctor's bag. And Erik.

\--xxx--

* * *

Meg's of relief caused by Dr Samson's summation was short lived. He had stated that she had severely sprained her ankle, and that it had been aggravated by her attempt to continue dancing after her first fall. The excessive swelling and bruising had been caused by this aggrevation, and that it would be remedied through elevation and rest.

"But the way she landed, it must be broken" her mother interceeded , waving her cane in the direction of Meg's ankle. The worry was clear upon Antionette Giry's face - her daughter had worked hard to achieve her position as prima ballerina, and a lengthy recovery time or severe break could easily end her career.

"I assure you Mrs Giry, there is no displaced bone. Your daughter's ankle in sprained and with rest she should be dancing again in four to six weeks"

"But is it not true that not all breaks displace a bone?". Erik's sombre tone seemed to unnerve the Dr. His shoulders tensed before he turned to face the man leaning against the wall in the corner.

Erik had chosen to withdraw, and effectively lurk, in the corner of the room as a way to distance himself from Christine. The moment Erik had seen Christine standing beside Meg he had to fight the urge to flee from the room. His normal confident façade was momentarily broken when their eyes met and she smiled to him in greeting. If he hadn't seen it himself he wouldn't have believed he had forgotten the extent of her beauty; her large almond shaped eyes, shiny and lusterious hair and her tempting lips. He longed to feel those lips upon his again. His focus had been quickly shifted when Dr Samson had bustled past, and Erik had found his spot in the corner.

From his vantage point he was able to survey the entire room while keeping a respectable distance from his lost love. He had watched Christine comfort Antionette uttering words of reassurance and gently patting her former mentor's arm. He watched Dr Samson closely as he prodded and attempted to manipulate Meg's ankle - ignoring the young woman's protestations.

There were now two men in the room who had irritated Erik. Oliver appeared to be spending the majority of his time scowling at him rather than focusing on Meg and the doctor was ignoring the poor woman's painful protestations. With every passing moment his irritation was hurtling full speed towards infuriation, and he doubted he could contain his anger if the doctor's incompetenace ruined Meg's career indefinitely .

"I wasn't aware you were a doctor, Mr Destler" came Oliver's voice from Meg's side. Meg noticed a change in Oliver's demeanour when he addressed Erik, and a look in his eyes she could not place.

"I am not. But nor am I an imbecile. The way Marguerite landed combined with the excessive swelling and bruising indicates a break of some sort. I repeat, not all breaks are clean. Isn't that so doctor?"

"Well...yes. Not all breaks are clean, but as I said, I cannot feel or manipulate the bone. Therefore it cannot be broken" Dr Samson tried to sound confident. By now Erik had moved across the room and was using his height to intimidate the man. The doctor took a step back in an attempt to feel more secure, "but it is possible that the break is small and that the swelling prevents me from feeling it" he added meekly.

Dr Samson was certainly unnerved by the tall masked man. Be had tried to aviod him, but he felt the man's oddly coloured eyes boring into him while he worked, assessing every move and judging every question. Considering the level of scuitinity he had found himself under, Samson wasn't remotely surprised when the unusal man questioned his diagnosis.

In an attempt to break the tension Meg interjected, trying to reassure her fiancé and prevent any of the men doing anything stupid. "Oliver, Erik does know about these kind of things",

"Does he now? What else does he know? What does he know about _you_? How well does he know _y__ou_?" he sneered at Meg.

Oliver's comment was met with confused looks from all bar Antionette. Antionette gentley took Christine's arm and guided her to the door. She wondered whether Oliver was aware of the tryst that had occured in the hallway and was now about to act upon her role as the scorned lover, or if he had finally become aware of his fiancée's looks of admiration in Erik's direction.

"Whatever this conversation is Christine my dear, it is not for our ears. And we need to find your husband; it has been far too long since I as in his company". She turned to the doctor, "Dr Samson, please accompany me and we will address your renumeration".

\--xxx--

* * *

Following the departure of her mother, Christine and Dr Samson Meg had tried to manouever herself into a sitting position. She would've asked for Oliver's assistance, but his demeanour meant she was unsure as to whether he would be forthcoming, so rather than face humiliation she decided to do it herself. She hadn't prepared herself for the sharp shot of pain that radiated up her leg and momentarily caused her vision to go back, causing her to cry out.

Within seconds she felt Erik's hand upon her calf and leg guiding them towards the chair at her side. The moment he touched her she was reminded of the last time he had visited her dressingroom, how it felt to have his slender fingers run up and down her legs, and how close they had come to sharing a kiss. Their eyes met briefly and she wondered whether his memory had gone to the same place, but the moment was suddenly broken by Erik being knocked backwards.

Upon seeing the exchange between his fiancée and the man who Oliver believed to be a murderer, he had been unable to contain his anger. He lunged towards Erik using the fall force of his body to knock and pin the taller man to the floor. He was straddling Erik's chest clawing at his mask shouting uncomprehensable things about a ghost.

Erik had every intention of having some 'fun' with the man; he would make him think he had the upperhand before humilating him with one sweeping overpowering movement. It had been Meg's scream that had deterred him from his game, he quickly pushed Oliver off him and went to Meg's side apologising profusely for inadvertently causing her pain by letting her foot unceremoniously drop to the chair.

Oliver sat on the floor staring at the mask he held in his hand. At first he daren't look at the face of the man who was comforting his fiancée, but when he did he was shocked to see just how hideous Erik Destler was; his face was a distorted mess of folded yellow skin, red welts and a heavily deformed lip. He threw the mask across the room as though touching it would contaminate himself.

It wasn't until he heard the sound of the mask hitting the wall that Erik realised his face was naked. He had been so preoccupied with the pain he had caused Meg that he had forgotten the man sitting hunched over on the floor.

"Erik, it is fine" Meg said in the calmest tone she could muster, "please leave him be. Just fetch it and leave him be". She sandwiched his hands inbetween hers as she pleaded with him. "He didn't know Erik. He was foolish and angry. Please leave him be Erik. Please be the Erik I know and not who you can be".

Meg thought that if she used Erik's name she could remind him of who he was, not who he used to be. She could.ground him, remind him that Erik Destler was an accomplished composer and the toast of the city, not the elusive and mianical Opera Ghost. She didn't want Oliver to die, but she didn't want Erik to lose everything he had gained since leaving France.

Erik's eyes were darting frantically from Meg, to Oliver and then to where his mask lay. She could see he was considering his actions, possibly considering the easiest way to dispose of Oliver. She felt him start to move away from her, so she gripped his hand more tightly in hers. She met his gaze and supported her verbal pleas with a look of sympathy, "please Erik. Please only move away from me if you are going to fetch your mask and leave Oliver be". He responded with a small nod.

Erik was quick to replace his mask and smooth his hair, but rather than facing his attacker he straightened his back and spoke in a dark tone while facing the wall. "It would bode you well to leave Sir". His tone terrified Meg. It was the same one he had used to threaten the management of the Populaire and taunt Raoul.

"I won't leave her alone in the company of a murderer". Erik turned on his heels and Meg's head jerked to look at Oliver. He was standing and had taken several steps towards Erik's position. Meg would have felt warmed by his act of chiveralry if it hadn't been so stupid

"I know who you are", Oliver continued, "I know the Vicomte's story must be true. I saw how you looked at his wife but stayed away from her. Now I have seen your face I know my suspicions are true".

Meg felt sick. Erik's eyes had darkened and she could see him clench his fists. If she didn't act quickly the Phantom would be upon Oliver and everything they had all built since I arriving in the US would be destroyed. She had seconds to decide on the beat course of action.

"Oliver, how do you know about the Vicomte's accusations?"

"I heard you speaking to the detective! You lied to protect a murderer Meg! Why?"

She looked at Erik; he seemed to have calmed slightly, before turning to look at Oliver, "the only person I have lied to Oliver is _you_. Erik and I know eachother much more intimately than I know you".


	14. XIV: Vaudeville

**A/N - thanks to the two guests that left a review :) It is nice to know you are enjoying my story.**

**This isna re-upload as I accidentally uploaded the wrong version. I's pretty much the same except there is more elaboration and some spelling and grammatical errors have been corrected.**

\--xxx--

Given 'normal' circumstances Antionette would never have knowlingly left her daughter unchaperoned in a room with two unmarried men, especially as it was clear they were heading for a confrontation.

She had considered remaining to bare witness, but having seen the change in Erik's demeanour the moment he saw Christine at Meg's side had made her decision to leave much easier. She knew neither man would hurt Meg, and that her daughter's quick mind and general manner would normally have been enough to appease any of Oliver's concerns, but Erik on the otherhand was another matter entirely.

Erik would be uncomfortable with Oliver's accusations, and he didn't need the added pressure of Christine's presence to cloud his judgement. Christine's relationship with Erik was complicated; a mixture of fear, respect, admiration and love. If she fell back into Erik's orbit there was no telling what lengths he would go to keep her there and considering she owed him a debt of gratitude for his Persian gems, she felt oblidged to help.

Christine's face had betrayed a simular emotion. Throughout the doctor's visit Antionette had noticed Christine's glances in Erik's direction and subtle flirtatous gestures in an attempt to garner his attention. It was true that Christine had seemed uncomfortable, but Antionette expected that was due to her wanting to be alone with her formee tutor, not his actual presence. Her suspicions seemed to be confirmed when she had guided a very heavy footed Vicomtess from the room.

When Meg had recounted the events of that evening Antionette thanked God that noone had been killed. Erik's temprement appeared to have mellowed since leaving France, but to have been unwillingly unmasked and not retort with violence was certainly a landmark for the man. The part of the story that had made her the most uncomfortable was when Meg explained that it had been her pleas that had prevented Erik from killing Oliver. Meg, of course, was pleased with herself; declaring that she was an incapacitated woman and yet the hero of the hour, but Antionette couldn't shift the uneasy feeling that her daughter's ability to reach Erik demonstrated the groundwork for something else.

Given the events of the previous evening Antionette had been relieved to see Christine on her doorstop the next afternoon. She understood why Meg felt animosity towards her friend, but it seemed to go beyond a reasonable proportion considering the events at the Opera Populaire were not her fault. The person accountable for the entire sordid affair was Erik, but Meg seemed to have decided that either he wasnt responsibe for his actions or had found it much easier to be more forgiving towards him than Christine. Again, the thought made her uncomfortable - Meg had been friends with Christine much longer than she had known Erik. She didn't like where the signs were pointing: she had made it clear to Meg that her childish crush on Erik needed to end, and she had told Erik in no uncertain terms that his manhood depended on leaving her daughter be.

\--xxx--

On her first visit Christine had eagerly regailed Meg with stories of her travels. It was apparent that of all the places she had visted her favourite was London. She spoke of the theatres, the galleries and of the various activities women partook in, especially croquet and lawn tennis. In turn Meg spoke of her time in the United States, her new found interest in cycling and her views on Coney Island.

"The women remove their clothes to music", she had whispered, as if saying it aloud would add tonthe scamdalous behaviour, "maman would've killed me if she knew I had been there. Mary - one ofnthe other girls - and I went to see the dancing. But I wouldn't call it dancing. There was no technique and their lines were wrong. But -- saying that- it must be hard to concentrate with all the noise"

"What noise? Surely people weren't talking over the music?"

"Not just talking! Singing and cheering. Some of the men tried to grab one girl. It's no wonder she couldn't dance correctly"

Christine sat stunned. Her friend was more concerned with the lack of technique than the depravity she had just described. "They removed their clothes to music. Donyou mean they...I mean...did they dance naked?"

"No, but one was topless". For the first time since the conversation had started Meg noticed the look of shock on her friends face. "I mean- it was bad - but it's performing, and some people aren't as lucky as you and I. So many of the girls from the corps left for less than savoury occupations amd I wouldn't be surpeised if some became caberet dancers or went to a burlesque club".

"I know not all were as lucky as us. But I never understood why someone qould leave the corps o dance somewhere - well - unsavoury"

"Oh Christine! Do you really not know?".

Christine shook her head, and Meg sighed in exasperation before continuing. Christine had loved in a bubble for such a long time thanks to Erik's interference and demandsl; she barely spoke to other members of the corps and would turn away every suitor until Raoul had appeared.

"Lisette left due to pregnancy, Marie and Eleanor because they weren't going to progress beyond the corps and they needed more money, and the English girl Jane left to marry her beau Samuel. He came all the way from England to fetch her. They eloped in the night. It caused such a stir. How didn't you know?"

"Lisette was pregnant?" Christine's hand was covering her mouth in shock, " and I noticed Jane was gone one day. I just assumed she will ill", she cast her eyes down in shame trying to aviod Meg's when she made her next confession, "then I just forgot. I became a bit...well...preoccupied"

"Well, who could blame you? Raoul is very handsome - except for that ridiculous moustache", she spoke in a jovial tone, "but seriously - why haven't you made him get rid of it? I'd be embarrassed to be seen with it!"

Christine laughed. "I allow him his small pleasures" she grinned, "it makes him happy".

"Ah, so his _pleasure_ is small" she said seductiveky

"Meg! I didn't...I don't...I mean..."

"Don't worry. I am only teasing. Honestly Christine, how could you have grown-up in the corps du ballet and be so innocent?", but in practise she knew the answer: her Angel of Music had shielded her, "anyway, the money mother and I have won't last forever, and maman is getting older. If my ankle doesn't heel correctly it is likely that I will never dance ballet again and I'll need some kind of income. I need to be realistic. I could end up in a vaudeville show like those on Coney Island"

"No!", Christine rose from her seat and knelt in front of her friend - she would be damned if she allowed Meg to undress for money, "that will not happen Meg. Your ankle will heel and if it doesn't I will help you"

"I don't want your charity Christine"

"I'm not offering charity. Raoul has many connections in the arts. I am sure that - if the worse came to pass - he would be eager to help".

\--xxx--

The second time Christine came to visit Antionette noticed something was different. Meg had been in good spirits following the previous visit and the two women had bid eachother farewell in a flurry of embraces and with broad smiles.

The Christine who had arrived at her door the second day was not smiling. Her lips were pursed and her eyes seemed cold. Antionette regretted that she had made arrangements to see a friend and aid with the flower arrangements for church as she was reluctant to leave the two women alone. She had known Christine long enough to see that something had upset her, and she suspected that whatever it was it had to do with Erik. She didn't understand how that infernal man had such a draw to him - she just prayed to God that he never realised how alluring he could be to the opposite sex, for if he did no woman: from the street beggars to Queens would be able to deny him their virtue.

After Antionette's departure the two women sat playing cards in near silence. Meg knew her friend qas brewing.

"What have I done?", Meg finally asked placing her cards face up on the table to forfiet the game.

Christine huffed tossing her cards on the table and folding her arms across her chest. Meg thought she seemed so immature. "You betrayed me"

"Betrayed you? How?"

"Erik".

"We've been through this Christine. I am sorry I lied about that", she couldn't hp but roll her eyes. She knew it would make things worse, but sometimes she couldn't help but show her emotions - regardless of what her mother had tried to teach her.

Christine stood and walked to the window. "How could you Meg? Oliver seems like a nice young man".

Meg wasn't sure what Oliver had to do with Christine's earlier belief that she and Erik were engaged, and her decision to lie to Oliver about the nature of hers and Erik's relationship had no influence on her life. "I'm sorry Christine, but I don't understand".

"The society pages of today's newspaper say you and Erik have been having an affair. That he is the reason for your accession to prima ballerina. They say you are a harlot who used Erik to gain your position and cast your fiancé aside for fame and fortune. They are saying that your accident was an act of God --punishment for your behaviour".

Meg felt her chest constrict and her heart rate increase. She held back burning tears. "That...that isn't true. I worked for my position. I worked hard! Erik and I haven't been having an affair. I said that to Oliver to protect Erik from the police". Meg's entire body was shaking. She didn't like that her life was gossip for the idly wealthy, but she detested the thought that people believed she didn't achieve her position on merit; she had constantly fought accusations of nepotism in Paris, and she didn't need them here. "Oliver...Oliver did this. I told him Erik and I were having an affair. I lied because he suspected who Erik was and I...I couldn't bare to see Erik locked away - or...or...worse - he has done so well since being here".

Seeing the sheer level of distraught upon her friend's face Christine knelt down next to her and gently rubbed her hand in an attempt to sooth her. "I am sorry. I shouldn't have believed it. I'm sorry"

"It's fine" Meg managed as her crying weined, "I understand why you did. I lied to you about my relationship with Erik and I know that your connection to him is - well - strong. But I'm ruined Christine. My reputation is ruined", she started crying heavily again, "I never thought Oliver would do this. He knew how hard I worked".

Meg knew she had wronged Oliver, even though it was a lie, but he was such a kind and amenable person that she wouldn't have imagined such behaviour in her wildest dreams. This is because of Raoul! If Raoul hadn't gone to the police, if he jad let sleeping dogs lie and just gone back to Europe and left them all be everything would be fine: she would still be dancing, her and Oliver would still be engaged, and Erik could just do whatever Erik does on a daily basis. Instead Raould couldn't leave well alone.

"This is all Raoul's fault"

"Yes, it is"

\--xxx--

Erik had not been expecting anyone other than Antionette to open the door. He looked upon the beautiful face of the Vicomtess de Chagny he cursed fate for punishing him so. Christine was a natural beauty with her dark curls, large eyes and flawless complexion. She wore a deep purple satin dress with black lace trim around the bodice and sleeves. The majority of her curls were brushed straight and secured in plaits at the base of her skull, with a few strands left loose framing her face. She was truly beautiful: an angel incarnate.

When he looked upon her he heard his music, he heard her beautiful voice entwined with his compositions, their souls uniting as they once did.

"Where is Antionette?"

"Running errands" she said with a small smile. Even her small smile made his heart sing.

Christine shifted uncomfortably as though decided the best course of action. Considering the content of today's paper it would only feed gossip if she allowed him to cross the threshold, but she didn't have the authority to deny him entry to Meg and Antionette's home. She was about to turn and call for Meg's opinion when he spoke.

"Shall I remain on the doorstep, or may I come in". He surmised from her expression his tone may have been unnecessarily sharp, but for his own self preservation he needed her to stay away from him. He could she see was considering denying him, but she stepped aside nevertheless.

Erik made a beeline for the drawing room knowing that Meg would most likely be convalesing in what be bemieved to be the largest room in her home. Although he was not immune to his own curiosity and this not above snooping, he had never ventured upstairs out of respect for the two women's privacy.

He couldn't help but smile when he saw Meg casually reclined on the chaise with her arm above her head and her injured leg outstretched with her ankle resting on the footstool: she.would've made a perfect portrait. Whereas Christine was dressed in the finery befitting her station Meg wore a simple cream blouse and an olive green skirt. As Erik approached he noticed how the buttons leading to the ruffle neck of her blouse were undone and he could see the pale skin of her decolletage. His mind wandered back to when he had touched and kissed her skin in the very building he was now standing in - causing his body to shudder slightly at the memory. Tonight he would recall that memory, but instead of the ballerina it would be the soprano in his arms.

Erik quickly made his way to the chair in the foremost corner of the room; that way he was a respectable distance from both women and wouldn't be drawn into Christine's alluring presence.

"What brings you here?" Meg enquired waving her hand feigning indifference at his presence, "I am in no fit state to be ravished"

As she spoke Erik noticed she wasn't wearing a corset. He couldn't fathom why she was always in a state of undress whenever he visited her home. 'What is wrong with the woman?' He shook the thought from his head; she wouldn't be wearing a corset as she is convalesing and wearing one would be too restrictive.

"This is no joking matter Marguerite I am here to deal with the source of the gossip and lies", he said while averting his eyes reminding himself he must only look at her face.

"You will not harm her Erik!", Christine almost shouted in an uncharacteristic surge of anger, "you will not hurt her! I won't allow it".

Both Meg and Erik turned to face the Vicomtess, both with furrowed brows of confusion. It hadn't even crossed Meg's mind that Erik may harm her, and Erik was shocked Christine would think him capable of harming her best friend. Yes, he had tried to _kill_ her fiancé, but that was a different matter entirely - he was his rival for her love and therefore fair game - Meg was, well Meg.

"I am here for that boy's address. He is the cause of this"

"You will not hurt Oliver Erik!" exclaimed Meg, "he is upset and hurting. _You_ of all people must understand that when people are hurt they do stupid things". As soon as the words left her mouth she regretted them; both Christine and Erik shifted uncomfortably in their seats. The last thing she had wanted to do was to remind Erik of his behaviour at the height of his Christine obsession. He was doing so well now that he was out of her orbit, and she would be loathed if she lost his friendship because of Christine.

"Actually - this is Raoul's fault". Meg was shocked that Christine repeated her earlier admission in front of Erik.

At the mention of Raoul Erik flinched. He knew it was Raoul's fault. Afterall, everything was Raoul's fault; if it wasn't for Raoul than Christine would have been his. He wouldn't have been consumed by madness and would be living in Paris and would go for walks with his lovely wife on Sundays.

"Let me fix this", Christine continued, now turning to Meg. "Raoul has connections in London and he has said they are looking for new talent for a new theatre. I can get him make enquiries on your behalf and I am sure he can use what influence he has to help ease the situation. I could write and advise you of any developments"

"Why should I leave here?"

"Your reputation. You know that even if you _successfully_ weather this scandal your reputation is damaged", she side-eyed Erik as she spoke - although Raoul's concern for her own wellbeing had instigated this latest drama in their lives, she blamed Erik for allowing Meg to sacrifice her reputationto save him. "Look Meg, you know this is a good idea. Otherwise you could be dancing in a vaudeville show on Coney Island"

"I assure you, that as long as I have breath in my lungs I will not allow that to happen. Marguerite will not dance a strip-tease for the lecherous masses. Her talent far surpassess a vaudville show".. Both women were surprised by the passion in his voice. Meg was above performing in such a way, she was an incredibly talented ballerina, and although the ballet rats would often be inundated with admirers at least they were opera patrons and not some lecherous dock workers who believed they could buy a woman's time.

Feeling slightly embarrassed, and increasingly hot under the collar, Erik made his excuses to leave. He couldn't spend anymore time in an enclosed space with his angel and a second beautiful women who was not dressed for visitor - especially with the talk of vaudeville shows and stip tease. He was already certain his unconscious mind would take him back to the scene and rewrite it in a way that would rival _Madame Bovary_.

When Christine rose and started to follow him towards the hall Meg reached out her hand. She hoped thay she may have been able to grip her wrist or catch her to prevent her from following, but Christine just smiled. Meg's heart sank as she watched her friend step through the doorframe, she desperately didn't want Erik's focus on Christine. She had realised the night if her accident that her feelings for Erik were more than that of friendship - which was why she had behaved in such a wanton way and sacrificed her relationship with Oliver to protect him. She had hoped that his obession had lessened, but seeing his nervous attitude around her friend she knew that wasn't the case. If Christine offered herself to him Erik would eagerly accept regardlesa of the consequences.

She knew it was selfish, but she inwardly cursed her friend; if she hadn't visited she would've had time alone with Erik.

\--xxx--

Erik had reached the door by the time he heard the tap of shoes behind him. He closed his eyes tightly in preparation to say something scathing, but he lost all resolve as he felt a light touch on his forearm.

Erik firmly believed he had finally decended into the madness that had teetered on the edge of his existence for most of his adult life. His proximity Christine and Meg's inapprorpriate dress had finally tipped him over the edge into the realms of delusion. He felt a gentle tug and he turned, fully expecting her not to be there. But she was.

Christine smiled briefly before standing on her toes to kiss his cheek. "I've missed you", she whispered, "tell me your address".

.


	15. X: Correspondence

Like everything about Christine her handwriting was beautiful. The slight slope to her lettering, the elegantly formed cursive characters and the perfect pressure from pen to paper. Judgeing by the flow of the ink it was likely she was using a dip pen rather than a quill. A quil produced flatter edges, not always smooth and the flow of ink was often inconsistent, whereas her script was always neat and even. At night he lay on his bed tracing the characters imagining her hand forming them, picturing her writing them away from prying eyes of her husband and her staff, trying hard to hide her surreptitious actions.

Writing correspondence need not be a clandestine affair in itself, but their exchanges needed to be; there were many people who would suffer if their friendship were discovered.

Their relationship had always been unconventional, and Erik knew he was soley to blame for that fact, but this new turn of events had probably been the most unforeseeable situation in his entire life.

The day she had asked for his address while at the Giry's he had almost collapsed in shock. His mind had already been circling the gutter due to his proximity to his angel and Meg's inapprorpriate clothing choices, so he had immediately assumed she wished to visit him for carnal pleasure. Once he had cast aside his disappointment- as much as he could - he knew such thoughts were merely dreams and lustings of a man starved of the loving touch of a woman. Christine was devout and would never commit such a sin against her husband and her God. Money may have been able to buy him a woman's caress, but it would never compensate for the embrace of a true lover.

It had been almost nine weeks since her departure and over that time he had revieved three letters. She had written about her passage and her home, news of her daily life, and - of course - music. In her first letter she had expressed her guilt at foregoing singing to please her new family and how she knew she had betrayed him. In her second she had thanked him for the handwritten sheet music and lyrics she had enclosed in his response. Conveying how she could never ask another to play the tune for it was a treasure she wished noone else to know. And in her third she had expressed excitement at seeing him again.

Her final letter had once again raised his hopes, inciting a firey passion within him. He had composed for several days straight with very little sleep a beautiful aria about how love transcends time. It would be his gift to her, and if he played it for her and she accompanied him their souls would once again be united by music and she would accept him. He had no time for God, so why should she?

Erik surveyed his room one last time before placing her letters in the breast pocket of his jacket so that they remained close to his heart. It would only be a matter of months - three at the most - before his charade of an engagement ended and he could focus all of his energy on winning Christine.


	16. XVI: A Childish Infatuation

**_A/N: Big thanks to the Guest who reviewed. FF is my guilty pleasure...as you can tell :)_**

\--xxx**\--**

A pledge of love. That is what am engagement ring was meant to represent. The one Oliver had given her- a pearl set in a silver ring engraved with vines - had meant that. It had been a promise of love, companionship and a future, but the ring that she currently wore represented none of those things. Her mother considered her a fool for destroying her relationship with Oliver, but Meg couldn't bare the thought of Erik rotting in gaol. She knew Erik's crimes and the destruction he had caused to so many lives, but she couldn't help believing no one was beyond redemption and rehabilitation. Erik had become a better person - a respectable person - who as giving the gift of exquist music to the world; it wouldn't have benefitted anyone, other than maybe the Vicomte de Chagny, to have him suffer in a cage.

Meg had decided it was the thought of the cage that pained her so. She knew very little of Erik's life before the Populaire other than that he had travelled the world, been an architect to the Shah of Persia, and been caged in a freak show, and she didn't want him to have to relive those memories

If the circumstances of thwir engagement had been 'normal' Meg would have expected Erik to tell her of his life before the Populaire; to share the events that led him across the globe and to Paris, but their engagement wasn't 'normal', it was one of obligation and debt. They were engaged to salvage her damaged reputation and, unlike a 'normal' engagement, there was very little emotion involved - at least on Erik's part.

Meg frequently had to remind herself that Erik's feelings for her were purely platontic and hers towards him were, as her mother had put it, "a childish infatuation". But on the occasions his hand touched her skin she couldn't help but think of the 'hallway incident' and their near kiss in her dressingroom. The memory of his hands running up her leg and resting on her thigh, the gentle manner in which he helped bathe her feet, and the passionate kisses they had shared that one night, would all fill her mind until it became foggy.

At one point, before her accident, she had started to believe that they were more like a courting couple than friends; the shared glances and smiles, his clear concern and care towards her, as well as their shared kisses and improper physical contact, had made her think he desired her company, but after the accident things changed.

Meg knew that Erik had initial kept his distance due to the scandal, but once it was agreed they would become engaged to silence whispers of impropriety she had hoped his friendly manner towards her would return. Instead Erik treated every social occasion and meeting as a buisness transaction; he would enquire after her ankle and general wellbeing, but beyond that he was completely uninterested in her life.

She had cried herself to sleep many times wondering what it was she had done wrong, having to remind herself that their engagement was a sham and that Erik would love noone other than Christine.

She looked at the latest letter from her friend and couldn't shift the feeling of trepidation in her stomach. In a few days she and Erik would set sail for England with job offers in hand and they would enter into the final stages of their rouse and eventually go their seperate ways.

With a slightly heavy heart Meg put away Christine's letter and began to pack her things for the nine day journey across the Atlantic Ocean.

xxx


	17. XVII: The Camel's Back

The morning his Butler had brought him the letter forewarning him of his mother's impending visit Raoul had been in the drawingroom reading A Picture of Dorian Gray. Although not normally one known for an interest in scandal - due to his own involvement in one at the Opera Populaire - he was intrigued to discover why the book was deemed by W E Henley as fit "for no one other than outlawed noblemen and perverted telegraph boys" and why W H Smith's had withdrawn it from sale.

Of course, Raoul couldn't have purchased the copy himself, nor could he send a member of his staff, so he had secretly been delighted when Gilles André had passed him a copy one evening at their gentleman's club.

Since the Vicomte and Victomess de Chagny had made their home in London Raoul had found himself spending an increasing amount of time in Gilles company, oft perfering it to his wife's tempremental moods and the increasingly sombre atmosphere that filled his home.

When in eachother's company the two men spent the majority of the time playing cards, discussing buisness and betting on horses. Raoul had started to consider the two if them to be firm friends.

One of the things that surprised Raoul was how effective the man was at predicting the winners of each race. It emerged that Gilles' father had managed racing stables and he had be surrounded by thougherbreds most of his childhood, so he had become atuned to assessing their strength and soeed purely based upon their form. Additionally Raoul had quickly learnt that his first impression if the two former managers of the Opera Populaire had been wrong; he had assumed the pair were old friends who had decided to become buisness partners, but it transpired that they had actually been buisness rivals who realised if they pooled their resources they would hold the monopoly and their own wealth and prosperity would flourish. He had learnt that, regardless of what the Opera Ghost had claimed, both were shrewed buisnessmen who knew how to use people and situations to make large sums of money. Something that was currently invaluable considering their current buisness arrangement.

As Raoul put his book aside and read his mother's letter he was relieved to read that she would not be staying in his home because it was a "conjoined property with noise from the neighbours preventing rest". He rolled his eyes at her passive aggressive attitude, but was greatful she would not be imposing on his hospitality and burdening his already unhappy wife.

\--xxx--

When Christine had first asked him to use his contacts to find Meg a job in London he had been relieved. Raoul thought that having an old friend with her would improve Christine's mood, - but in retrospect it seemed to have the opposite effect. With each letter - which he thought seemed to arrive surprisingly quickly considering they were coming from the otherside.ofnthe Atlantic- Christine had recieved she became increasingly withdrawn and distant from him.

Fermin had practically rejoiced when he has asked if there would be a position avalible for Meg Giry - not because she was a world class ballerina, but because "gossip is worth its weight in gold". When Raoul had questioned him Firmin had revealed his surprise that the Vicomtess had not told him Meg had become embroiled in a sex scandal, but Raoul knew Christine couldn't have known - her religious virtues would never condone such behaviour, even from her best friend.

After a while Raoul did begin to wonder if his wife had known about the scandal, and her aloof behaviour was the result of her disappointment in Meg's behaviour. At first Christine had talked about showing Meg the British Museum, taking her to both St. James' and Regent's Park, and the impressive Savoy Theatre that she loved so much. But suddenly her discussions about Meg ended abruotly and she became more withdrawn and tempremental. It wasn't until he attended a buisness meeting with Gilles and Firmin that Raoul discovered a possible cause.

Raoul was not fond of Gilles and Firmin's office. Although fashionable with oak panelling, large desks and aritificial light, he found it quite claustrophobic. It was an internal room meaning that no natural light reached the walls and no fresh air diluted the stale cigar smooe that seeked to linger in the air. Normally he would try and conductebuisness at his club with Gilles, or coax Firmin into discussing buisness over luncheon, but the message had said his attendance was urgently needed, so he had to forgoe his normal preferences.

As he had entered the manager's office Firmin had practically forced a glass of champagne into one hand and a cigar into another.

"Brilliant news Old Chap!" Richard Firm exclaimed enthusiastically waving his arms and unceremoniously spilling champagne on his desk, "Madomsille Giry is to be wed!".

Raoul hardly felt the engagement of a woman they barely knew warrented such enthusiastism, in fact it should've been the contrary as a married woman rarely danced on the stage.

He glanced at Gilles with questioning eyes, but eye contact was refused.

"Ah, I take your silence to mean you don't know. Unsurprising really. I doubt your lovely lady wife is too happy about the situation considering - well - all that happened between them".

Raoul placed his untouched drink and cigar down on Firmin's desk. "I doubt my wife knows of an engagement, she hasn't recieved a letter from Madomsille Giry since she wrote to say she was accepting the offer of employment I had secured for her". He knew Christine had recieved letyers but knew nothing of their content. It was quite possible that Meg's engagement had been what had caused Christine's increasingly distant behaviour.

"Marguerite Giry is to marry Erik Destler".

If he had still been holding his glass he would have dropped it.

\--xxx--

Roaul missed the time when their coupling felt like more than duty. Was he foolish to believe that rekindled childhood love would be enough to weather the storm of disapproval from his family and her denied desire to be on stage? Even more so, would he ever be able.to compete with her Angel of Music? As he lay in bed he felt the urge - the need - to know if Christine knew Meg was engaged to Destler, and if that was the cause of her behaviour.

After one of his visits it was customery for him to stay with her, so it was the perfect opportunity to discover the cintent of Meg's letters. He waited until Christine's breathing shallowed before he lit a candle and made his way to her dressing table.

In his previous life he would never have dreamt of rifling through her private things, but he was a different man. The strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera had seen to that.

He carefully shifted his weight so nit to wake her and lit thw candle at the side of the bed. In a single fluid motion he rose and made his way to her dressing table. He quickly rummaged through her jewellery box and found nothing of consequence except the key to the top drawer. He held the small brass key in his fingers contemplating what to do before placing it back in her box.

He opened the second drawer - which unlike the first was unlocked - and quietly searched through its contents. There were ribbons, hair pins, a few small trinkets and three letters bound with a blue ribbon. He quickly freed them from their binding and skimmed them; it was clear she had written to Christine of her engagement. He folded the letters and retied the blue ribbon before turning to check on his.wife's sleeping form. Once again he was drawn to the jewellery box, and before he thought better of it, he took the small brass key and unlocked the drawer.

Most of the drawers contents were things he had seen before; a broach that had belong to her mother, two cravat pins belonging to her father, and some of his letters tied with a green ribbon, but there was one thing that caught his eye. Pushed to the far back there was a small bundle wrapped in a lace hankerchief and tied with a black ribbon.

He quickly untied it, unfolded the delicate fabric and opened the first letter. The script was messy and not written in traditional cursive, but he recognised the handwriting immediately. He wanted to scream, to fall to the floor and sob, and demand the woman he loved explain herself to him. Instead he closed his eyes, counted his breaths and replaced the letter, hankerchief and ribbon before locking the deaw and returning the key to its home.

He left her room with a slam of the door. Not caring if he woke her.

\--xxx--

Christine knew Raoul was spending an increasing amount of time at his club to aviod her, and she didnt feel like she could blame him. She knew she had been distant and cold; taking out her torn emotions on the one person who had shown her nothing but love and companionship over the last few years.

She tried very hard to put her burning desire for performing aside, to replace it with other hobbies and other interests, but the hole in her soul remained. She had told Erik as much in her letters; that she blamed Raoul's family for her inability to perform. She had explained how she had believed it if weren't for Raoul's family and the choice had been solely his that he would've allowed her to perform. She had hoped his new buisness venture with his allusive partners, and their distance from his family would have - in time - meant she could return to the stage, but she had come to realise that was not going to be the case. They were financially dependant on Raoul's family name and there was point in pretending otherwise.

She had been overjoyed when she had recieved a gift of a compesistion from Erik. More than anything she wanted to sing the aria to Raoul but susoected he would have been able.to guess the composer, so instead she had resigned herself to the belief noone other than her.would hear it sung. That was until she recieved Erik's last lettertelling her he would be travelling to England as he had recieved a job offer.

The thought of seeing Erik again and being able to sing his aria with his accompaniment made her heart sing in rejoice. Maybe if she sang with her Angel one more time and parted on good terms, she would be able to accept music would no longer have a part in her life, and she could fully embrace her role as the Vicomtess de Chagny.

The clandestine nature of their communications and her blossoming plan to meet and sing with Erik one more time was taking ita toll on Christine. She did not like to lie, knowing it to be a sin, so she decided the best way to aviod lying was to try to aviod Raoul. Which really wasn't the most mature or sensible course of action

\--xxx--

Raoul and Christine had dined at The Ritz several times but Christine felt she would never become accustomed to its opulence. The dining room had floor to cieling windows with golden drapes, the walls had several mirrors covering half the room's height, and the pannellng was accentuate by gold leaf. The brightness of crystal sconces and chandilier indicated they had been converted from either gas or candles to electric lighting - something the Doweger Comtess expressed her dislike towards.

"I find these new electric lights far too bright. I told Phillppe that I will not have them in my home, but he said he never had any intention of putting them in either my chauteux or his - they are far too vulgar".

Christine didn't see how electricity was 'vulgar', she may not have understood how it worked, but she saw it was an innovation. She considered asking her mother-in-law to elaborate on her dislike of electric lighting, but decided it was best she didn't give the woman any further reasons to hate her.

Soon the conversation moved onto Christine's inability to bare Raoul an heir, with his mother highlighting that Phillppe already had two sons that were sired within a year. She questioned Christine on whether her previous career as a dancer could've dmaaged her ability to have children. That had been one of the most ludicrous assumptions Christine had ever heard; ballet dancers had babies and she was certain the Doweger knew it. It was just another way for Raoul's mother to air her dissproval of her daughter-in-law and remind her of her lower social status and unwillingness to welcome her into the family.

The straw that had broken the camels back was when Raoul's mother had tried to convince Raoul to take his naval commision and allow Christine to stay with her. Raoul had noticed his wife's eyes widen with terror and he couldn't suppress his annoyance at his mother any longer.

"Mother, I shall not be takeing-up my naval commission and even if I did decide to Christine would not be staying with you", Christine stared at her husband shocked that he had not only raised his voice to his mother, but also understood her fear,

"You are my son and you will do as I say" the elder woman managed to say, clearly taken aback by her youngest son's sudden assertive behaviour.

"I am your son, but I am a grown man who makes my own decisions. You seem to forget that mother. And don't play coy - you know of Phillppe's bastard daughter from his ballet dancer - so let's not prentend you believe Christine's former role effects her ability to carry a child. Your issue isn't that I don't have an heir - which I must say is _my_ concern as I am the second son amd you already have grandchildren, your issue is that I chose to marry Christine rather than fulfil my percieved obligation to take my commision and travel to the North Pole".

His mother had sat open mouthed, unable to comprehend what had just occured. Raoul, her quiet and compliant son had spoken out of turn to her - his mother - something he had never done before. She finally managed to stutter "that's not true", but by the time she had found her voice Raoul had stood to leave and offered his wife his hand.

\--xxx--

Raoul had not accompanied Christine home, instead her had directed the driver to take her while he had some buisness to attend to.

When he arrived at the theatre he had hoped to find Gilles in the manager's office as he felt the desperate need to unburden himself to his friend, but instead he found Firmin.

"When will we recieve the fruits of our endeavour?", he asked, "For I fear I may be in need of them sooner than I anticipated"


	18. XVIII Part One: Ungrateful

**_A/N - this chapter was very long, so I've had to split it._**

-xxx-

The journey across the Atlantic and the ravel from Liverpool to London would take twelve days. That meant it would be twelve days until her could see Christine.

Erik's initial plan had been establish himself in London before approaching her, but since her last letter every day they were separated felt like he was drowning. He was under no illusions that their reunion would be easy - with the Vicomte posing the most inconvenience- but he would find a way. He was a genius after all.

The other hurdle he needed to overcome was his engagement to Meg Gary. Although it was a sham, he couldn't just sever ties with her immediately upon their arrival in London. Not only would such an action render the attempt at salvaging her reputation null and void, he also had a nagging feeling that her job offer and his were somehow related; something that made him very uncomfortable considering Meg's offer was a result of Vicomte's influence.

He wouldn't normally accept a job offer or commission an anonymous patron, but having recognised the handwriting in the several letters he had received he thought that his latest endeavour would interesting -at the very least.

The more he thought about it, the more apparent it became that Meg Giry was going to be his main problem. His initial plan had be to continue the charade of an engagement for around three months and then end it in a fairly amicable nature by returning to the USA while she perused her career in England. But the more he thought about Christine's letters the more resolved he became to end his engagement to Meg sooner rather than later. The conundrum was how to do this without shaming her and upsetting Christine.

Since Christine's last letter Erik had made the conscious effort to distance himself from Meg. He would be lying to himself if he denied that he found her attractive and that he had secretly harboured hopes that their fake engagement would become something real, but Christine's letters had changed that. He no longer needed to find a replacement in his broken heart for Christine because Christine was looking forward to seeing him.

He could tell that Meg was unhappy with his distancing and aloof behaviour. She tried to orchestrate time alone with him and whenever her chaperone's guard was down she would touch his hand or throw him a coy smile. Her continued pleasantness annoyed him; she was trying to distract him from Christine, whether she knew it or not, and she needed to stop. The more he dwelled on Meg's behaviour the more irritated he became: she was the one who would delay his reunion with Christine. He had done so much for her: he had never asked her to lie for him, she did that of her own accord, and now he was in a sham of an engagement to protect her reputation when she had ruined it herself. Regardless of how pleasant the woman could be, she was ungrateful.

He was interrupted from his thoughts by Meg resting her hand on his arm

"When the sea is calm it is truly beautiful" she spoke with a sense of awe in her voice as she looked out at the ocean and the retreating New York shoreline, "I hope this journey is more pleasant than my last. I do have two bottles of Vin Maraini - just in case".

"That was wise", he said impassively. She squeezed his arm lightly in response. Her willingness to touch him was a problem. He couldn't understand why she remained friendly towards him when he was purposefully cold and distant. However he knew she shouldn't be outwardly rude to her, after all they were engaged, even if it was a sham. "And how is your ankle of late?"

"Much better thank you. I must practice regularly otherwise it becomes stiff. I am lucky our suite is large enough that when the furniture is moved I can try most moves other than a jêtê. I have tried to go en pointe, but I can't sustain it for more than a few seconds, so I _really_ must practice that". He didn't like she was considering jêtês when that was what had caused her injury, and he detested what going en pointe did to her feet. If their engagement had been real he would demand she stopped ponte work - although that very well could end her career.

There was a cough from behind them and their brief conversation was interrupted by a strong English accent.

"Meg, your maman would not be happy", the dark haired woman said gesturing to Meg's hand on Erik's arm. "Don't forget your mother made me responsible for protecting your virtue".

Erik scoffed, he was certain Meg's virtue was non existent if her behaviour towards him was anything to go by. But it seemed neither woman heard as they both happily left him to his brooding.

Antoinette had been unable to make the journey across the Atlantic due to her teaching commitments, so she had asked her friend Beth to act as Meg's chaperone until she could join them. Beth was an English woman who immigrated to the USA with her Irish husband some twenty years earlier, she was about ten years Antoinette's senior with a head of grey hair and a rather abrupt demeanor. Meg had secretly been relieved when her mother had told her Beth would be acting as her chaperone; her mother's friend appeared much more interested in the young men manning the vessel than Meg's behaviour.

Once they returned to their suite Beth wasted no time in reminding Meg of her mother's expectations and that she had been clear that there was to be no physical contact between the couple, and under no circumstance were they to be left alone.

Meg knew why her mother had made such stipulations; she didn't trust her daughter and she assumed that without her overbearing presence Erik's willpower would be weak.

-xxxx-

The first few days of their journey passed uneventfully. Meg, Beth and Erik would play cards, attend dinner and luncheon, and take the occasional walks along the promenade.

On the second evening Beth had surprised Meg with her willingness to be involved in subterfuge to enable Meg to visit her 'gentleman friend'.

"After I have taken my sleeping draught I wouldn't know what you are doing or who you are with, my dear. If you wish to visit your gentleman friend I would be none the wiser". Meg had initially protested claiming she didn't feel the need to visit Erik, but Beth's insistence that such desires and behaviour were normal for courting couples" meant Meg felt obliged to leave her room. That was why Meg ended up wandering the promenade in the middle of the night.

As she stood looking at the bleakness of the ocean Meg couldn't help but think of the futility of her situation. She was certain she was in love with Erik and she believed he had feelings for her; he just needed to acknowledge them.

She had come to her own revelation the evening of the altercation in her dressing room; she had felt more concerned for Erik's safety than that of her fiancé's and she had lied to save him rather than protecting her own relationship with Oliver. She had been the one to calm him - to ground him - and prevent a violent rampage, Christine hadn't done that - Christine had incited one. She had sacrificed her reputation to protect him, Christine hadn't done that - she had married Raoul and ascended the social ladder. She would give anything to prevent him from ending up in gaol, Christine wouldn't do that - she had been complicit in Raoul's plans to capture him. Meg firmly believed that all Erik needed to do was realise what she had done for him.

After a while the cold air started to sting her fingers and she assumed that she had been away from her suite for an appropriate amount of time. She began to return when she heard the sound of music be carried across the air and she wandered to the music room. She hadn't spent much time in the opulent room as Erik had informed her that the butchering of the music affected his temperament, but whoever was playing was clearly extremely talented.

As Meg approached she recognised the form sitting on the piano stool. The music was more ethereal than other things she had heard him play; it was entrancing. She stood in the middle of the room and allowed the music to engulf her.

"Eaves dropping isn't becoming of a lady" Erik said softly without turning to face her.

"Sneaking into the music room and commandeering a piano isn't gentlemanly behaviour either".

"But it is if you grease the staff's hands with money. Money can buy you almost anything".

"Almost" She had approached him and was running her hand along the dark spruce of the piano. He was right, money certainly could buy almost anything and it was characteristic of wealthy gentlemen to use money in that way, but the one thing money couldn't buy you is love. As she looked at him she considered explaining why she had been so willing to sacrifice herself to protect him, hoping he would take her in his arms, but his body language told her now was not the time.

"Will Beth not wonder where you are?"

Meg chuckled, "Beth thinks I am in your suite. She told me to 'go and have some fun'. I was waiting an appropriate amount of time before returning. I didn't want her to think that...well...that you were...erm.. _inadequate_"

"I assume I should thank you for that", again he hadn't asked her to consider his thoughts or feelings; she had done it of her own volition.

Taking his willingness to engage in conversation Meg reached for the sheet music resting upon the piano. It was clearly one of his own compositions and she could see some lyrics written beneath the notes, but before she could touch the paper Erik stilled her hand and looked at her questioningly.

"I don't wear it in private", his expression showed she needed to elaborate, "It is so lovely that I don't want to damage it." She daren't tell him that her real reason was because the ring meant nothing. It was a false promise made out of debt and not love, and when we were alone she needn't be reminded of that.

Erik began to feel his annoyance bubbling; once again Meg Giry was being ungrateful. He had given her an elaborate and very expensive ring, yet she didn't always wear it. Even if she was concerned she would damage it, he had more than enough money for a replacement or for repairs. Furthermore the ring represented that she would soon belong to him and by refusing to wear it - even in private - she was refusing his impending status in her life. It didn't matter that it wasn't real to them, but it was real to the rest of the world.

"I would prefer if you wore your ring".

Meg couldn't help but smile as she headed back to her suite. Erik had told her that he would '_prefer_' her to wear her ring. And an engagement ring is meant to represent love. So it was possible he was starting to realise he loved her.

-Xxx-

Erik had spent most the day avoiding Meg and Beth. He struggled to understand his emotions around the blonde ballerina. Her ungrateful attitude infuriated him, yet she would show him acts of kindness that warmed his heart. What was irritating him the most about Meg was her suddenly cheery attitude. He couldn't fathom how she was able to cause such conflicting emotions within him - so that evening he resorted to drink.

Erik had been casually enjoying his wine while perusing Madame Bovary when he was interrupted by a knock at the door. On the other side was Meg Giry dressed in little more than her nightdress and a shawl.

"Good grief woman!". Erik grabbed Meg by the wrist and pulled her into the room before sharply pushing her back against the now closed door. "And what do you think you are doing gallivanting the halls of an ocean liner in your nightdress? Do you have no idea of the unsavoury characters that lurk about waiting for unsuspecting prey?"

Meg didn't want to admit that she had come to his suite with hopes he would realise he had feelings for her. She believed they had a connection of sorts; they had shared glances and smiles, and she had managed to calm him following his altercation with Oliver, yet he had become increasingly aloof in his interactions with her. She knew her actions were unladylike and extremely forward, but he seemed almost oblivious to her growing affections and this had seemed like a logical step to get his attention.

As she stood pinned to the door by his weight she couldn't help but find his presence intoxicating. She turned her head in a feeble attempt to avoid eye contact, but her attempt was in vain as Erik gently titled her chin so they were looking at one another. They were so close that Meg could almost taste the lingering smell of red wine on his breath, and she could feel his radiating body heat. As he lowered his head closer to hers Meg thought he was going to kiss her; she noticed his eyes drop to her chest and she wondered whether there would be a repeat of the events in her mother's hallway. She closed her eyes in anticipation of their kiss, but instead he whispered in her ear.

"You are an ungrateful chit Marguerite Giry" and pushed himself away from her using the door as leverage. "Don't you care about what _I_ have done for you? What _I_ have given up to protect your imagined virtue? I am travelling half way around the world in order to save your reputation, and you are willing to throw it away by prancing about in your nightdress!" By the end of his tirade he had made his way back to the drinks cabinet and poured another large glass of wine.

"My _imagined_ virtue! What _you_ have given up! How dare _you_!" she shouted as her palm made contact with his face."I lied to protect _you_. Without _me_ and _my_ sacrifice _you_ would be in gaol and _I_ would be marrying Oliver". She raised her hand to slap him again, but this time he caught her wrist, "Instead I am here with you - I'm engaged to a man who doesn't even seem to like me! You are the ungrateful one, not me!"

Erik surveyed the woman in front of him. She had slapped him - and hard - which was not something he would had ever expected from her. She had never been his focus at the Populaire, but he had noticed her. She was a passionate dancer and was much more vivacious than Christine , but even when the other dancer's had teased her or one of the stage hands moved beyond wanted attention he had never seen or heard of her hitting someone, even if they deserved it. As he looked at her he noticed her breathing was heavy - most likely from the adrenaline- causing her chest to heave. When alone he would recall how he had touched her; the softness and warmth of her skin, the way she responded to his caresses - sometimes this memory remained true and at others her face was replaced with Christine's, but as she stood before him now he felt his desire began to stir.

It seemed like an eternity had passed as the couple stood staring at one another. Meg found that with each passing moment the silence became more ominous and unnerving. She wanted to leave- she had slapped Erik and was uncertain how he was going to react and the emotion in his eyes was something she couldn't place.

Erik took a step forward and she moved to take a step back, but before her foot had the opportunity to touch the floor he had grabbed her by the waist and pulled her flush against him. She could feel that he desired her and she welcomed the attention of his urgent kiss. In order to feel closer to him Meg laced her fingers behind the back of his neck and pulled him towards her but rather than deepening the kiss he gently pushed her away.

Meg paused momentarily to consider what she should do; he clearly desired her body and she was certain if she reaffirmed her offer he would willingly take her, but he had been the one to pull away - not her. She watched him drink his entire glass of wine before pouring himself another, all without saying a word. She briefly considered trying to speak to him about what had just occurred and asking him about his feelings towards her, but she held back. She feared that she would be faced with a similar response to that which had driven him to the brink of insanity.

Resigned that this incident would be another 'almost' moment Meg began to leave, but before she could fully open the door it was abruptly pushed closed. Meg could feel Erik behind her, his breath on the back of his neck, his body leaning against hers and the pressure of his arousal on her lower back. He was using one hand to steady himself on the door while the other rested on her hip. She felt him nuzzle into her hair and take a deep breath as his hand traced the line of her hip before moving to her abdomen. She closed her eyes and leaned into him to as he began to pepper kisses along the nape of her neck.

"Do you still think I don't like you?" he whispered into her ear as his hand moved lower towards its intended destination. At his words her eyes snapped open and she remembered his ungrateful attitude and belief about her virtue.

"You like me because my presence and my _imagined_ virtue are convenient for you". Then, with an almighty tug she pulled open the door causing him to stumble backwards as she exited the room.

Meg had cried herself to sleep following the incident in Erik's suite. She knew she was foolish; she knew she went there to try and stir the feelings she hoped - believed - he had for her. Instead she left believing he saw her as a convenient person to fulfill his carnal desires; he had been clear that he believed her virtue was imagined, and their current situation meant - if she was willing - he could easily use her to satisfy his own needs.

As she lay in her bed she hoped Beth wouldn't hear her tears. As far as her chaperone was concerned Meg and Erik were very much in love, and she didn't have the energy to continue with the pretense when her heart was aching. She now understood how Christine's rejection had driven him into a deep melancholy: unrequited love hurts.

-xxx-

They spent the next two days avoiding each other, only making appearances in each other's company for luncheon and dinner.

It was Beth's intervention that finally caused the couple to be alone. She had invited Erik to have tea in their suite and then abruptly left claiming had made a double engagement with some of the women down the hall.

"I apologise for Beth's interfering. She believes we are very much in love and in need of time alone".

When Erik didn't respond she felt the need to continue. "If you like we shall pretend the other night never happened", she didn't want to pretend, but she wanted to be near him and she was prepared to ignore the incident if it meant she could remain close to him. "I want us to be friends again"

"I do consider you to be a friend Marguerite - and there are not many people who have that privilege".

"That is very arrogant thing to say"

"I have told you before: arrogance is one of my most endearing personality traits". Seeing her relax at the reference he took the opportunity to continue. "I must apologise for my behaviour the other night. I had been drinking and was not in full possession of my faculties"

Meg looked at him over her tea cup. She believed that he had realised the extent of his feelings for her and that he had been avoiding her because he wasn't sure how to react, but she was wrong. He regretted his actions and he blamed the alcohol. He hadn't decided he loved her. She could feel tears beginning to burn in her eyes.

Seeing her distress Erik reached over and took her hand. Every touch fed her longing and every touch broke her heart.

Meg looked uncharacteristically fragile, and Erik couldn't understand why. She looked as though she would burst tears, and he didn't want her to cry. She may have been an ungrateful chit, but he didn't consider his heart hardened to her after all, she provided a perfect reason to be seen near Christine. "Meg I am sorry for my unkind words. I appreciate what you have done and should have thanked you sooner".

She gave a weak smile and removed her hand from his she loathed breaking contact, but knew it was a necessity. She just couldn't help but grasp at every scrap of attention he threw her way

xxxxx.


	19. XIX: Persia

A/N - Thanks badpixie06 for the comment on here and AO3.

xxxxx.

Beth continued to be a poor excuse for a chaperone, opting to spend time with her new friends rather than supervise her charge. She knew Antionette would have her hide if she found out that she had not only allowed her daughter to be alone with her fiancé, but had actually organised her day to enable it.

Beth had naturally gravitated towards Antionette when she jad first arrived at church. Both women were in mourning clothes, through their husbands had passed some time back, and both had a stern exterior, but that was where the similarities ended. Whereas Antionette was methodical and systematic in her approach to life, Beth was more whimsical and romantic. The last time Beth had sailed the Atlantic it had been with her new husband following their elopement due to their disapproving famlies: her's not wanting her to wed a "dangerous revolutionary" and his wanting him to saty away from the sassenach that had stolen his heart. During that journey she had travelled as a third, never expecting her husband's buisness venture to provide such a healthy return, or to make the return journey to her homeland in first class. They hadn't had much time alone in thos early days, but she cherished every moment. She didn't want Antionette's daughter to suffer the same pain she felt everytime she had bid her Bert goodbye.

Meg had hoped that reminding Beth of her mother's instructions she would become more vigilant in her role as chaperone, and stop her making excuses that allowed Erik and her to be alone. Meg desperately wanted to spend time with Erik and she missed his company when they were parted; but she wondered if he were subjected to a prolonged period of her absence he would realise he missed her too. After all, the poet Agnes Strickland had written "Tis absence, however, that makes the heart grow stronger".

"Don't be silly Marguerite. I do not fear your mother's wrath. When my Bertie and I eloped we travelled in third and had to share a room with five strangers - so we hardly got the chance to know eachother", her mischievous smile revealed the true meaning of her words, "so I will help you and your Erik. That is - unless you don't want me to?"

Panic rose from within Meg's chest, she didn't want Beth to become suspicious of the true nature of hers and Erik's relationship, and she did want to spend time.qith Erik, she just wanted him to miss her company. "Of course I do".

"That's good. I have very carelessly made Two bookings for luncheon. So Erik will have to dine here with you."

\--xxx--

Meg and Erik's conversation focused upon her new appointment and her healing ankle. Each time she mentioned jêtês or pointe work he found himself clenching his jaw and hands; he would be damned if he allowed her to injure herself after all he had done. He had spent a considerable amount of time pondering how she could continue to dance but aviod the more troublesome moves and had come to.the conclusion that If his suspicions about her new employer were correct it should be easy to manipulate the situation. And if that wasn't forthcoming he would have to resort to other methods at his disposal.

As she blathered on about the intricate details of ballet he began to surreptitiously survey the room looking for a way to politely change the topic of conversation to something he found engaging. Had she been anyone else he would have told her to silence the mundane prattle, but je still harboured some remorse for their previous confrontation and for a reason he couldn't quite place, he didn't want to be unkind to her.

"I see your taste in books has improved since our last voyage" he interrupted leaving the table and collecting her copy of Treasure Island.

"My taste in books hasn't changed at all. You saw me reading _one_ book. I have read _many_ others"

"Ah, well it is good to know your repiotore isn't limited to the courting rituals of middle-class English women, and the trials and tribulations of plain governesses winning the affections of a hardened employer".

"For someone who has an apparent dislike of Austin, you seem to know alot about her novels".

Erik scoffed in response, "I enjoy a diverse range of literature as long as it is well written, but that doesn't mean I apprecaite the focus. But this -", he held up her book and smiled, " - this is much more interesting. I haven't discussed a book with anyone for months, and Nadir shan't be in England anytime soon. So please tell me what you think?"

"I didn't take you for someone who believed in buccaneers and buried treasure", her reply was more curt than intended and she hoped he wouldn't retreat from their new line of conversation. She doubted her analysis and interpretation of the novel would be as thougher as Nadir's, but she liked the idea of having an intellectual conversation with Erik, even if she wasn't up to it.

If he was offended by her remark his demeanour didn't show it. "Pirates are very real Meg, but tell me what did you think of the book?"

She considered her answer nervously; Erik was a highly intelligent person and she knew she was not his equal in that regard. The more she thought about it the more certain she became that she would not be able to hold such a conversation with him, so her response - although not inaccurate - was brusque."It is a story for little boys to remove them from their mother's apron strings".

"Is that your entire analysis",

"Am I wrong? "

"No you are not wrong". She watched him place the book down, "I am merely disappointed. I was hoping for more intelligent conversation"

"So you don't find my conversation intelligent?"

"Generally I find your conversation intelligent, but on this occasion I obviously expected too much of you".

Meg's mouth dropped open at his audacity. Although anxious about her own percieved inadequatcies, she had intended to tease him before sharing her real analysis of Stevenson's work. But once again he had insulted her. She knew she wasn't as intelligent as him, but she doubted that many people were and he knew it. It was clear from his arrogance, the way he rolled his eyes, and his impaitence when dealing with people. Her mother had once told her he was also an inventor and architect, and Meg knew he couldn't do all those things, plus create the beautiful music, unless he was a genius. But that didn't excuse his behaviour towards her, not when she had done nothing to provoke it.

"Firstly, Stevenson himself has said the book is primarily a story of adventure, therefore my statement is valid. Secondly there is a blurring between right and wrong; Silver is a manipulator and is equally enslaved as the others by his lust for gold, yet he cares for Jim and provides him with protection on numerous occasions. It tells us that human beings are complicated characters, but those who use forethought will eventually prevail. Thirdly, Jim lacked a male role model and Silver was everything a young boy could invisage when undertaking an adventure. Although Silver wasn't perfect - as no one is - Jim wishes him well at the end. He impacts Jim in a way no other person in the book does, without him Jim would still be clinging to his mother's apon strings. Thus bringing us back to my origional comment."

During her entire tirade she kept her eyes fixed on his face, hoping to see an expression of shock in response to her sudden "intelligent conversation", but instead she saw him smirk and then smile.

"Never try to manipulate a manipulator Meg, the most experienced will always win". She was stunned into silence by his disclosure, and if he had been closer she would have slapped him. His behaviour vexed her, but seeing him smile gave her hope he was teasing her - possibly even flirting in his own strange way.

Later that evening Meg was preparing herself for bed when she heard a knock at the door. She waited to see if Beth would stir, but the elder woman's undisturbed snores told her that the only person opening that door would be hers. As a second louder knock came Meg quickly grabbed her shawl and tightly wrapped it round her chest protectively.

Upon opening the door she saw Erik casually leaning against the opposite wall. As always he was impeccably dressed, except he was not wearing a cravat or bow tie, instead the top three buttons of his shirt were undone. It seemed uncharacteristic of him, but she felt satisfied that it was an indication he was growing more comfortable in her presence.

"Where you expecting someone else? Your lover perhaps?" Erik asked with a smirk when she didn't immediately invite him in.

"What? No! You know I have no lover" she said with indignation, "come in quickly before anyone sees you". Erik rolled his eyes at her sudden urgency. She frustrated him to no end; now she was concerned about propriety when only a few nights ago she was prancing around the ship in her nightdress. No one would think less of a gentleman visiting a female 'friend', in fact they probably would even recall seeing him, but they would remember an attractive woman in her nightdress, but that didn't concern her.

He was about to make a snide remark along those lines when he noticed she was wearing the same nightdress she had on the night she came to his room. Although it was fairly shapeless, he could see the silhouette of her body and he felt the sudden need to distance himself from her.

As he quickly made his way to the amiore Meg noticed he was carrying a rather large tome. She also noticed he seemed to be walking strangly,

"Are you injured?"

"No. Why do you ask?", he responded as he sat down and crossed his legs.

"You were walking in an odd way."

He looked at her suspiciously , either she was more inexperienced with the physical attributattribmen than he thought, or she was gouding him again. Choosing not to answer to aviod embarrassment for both of them he plowed on with the purpose of his visit.

"I have brought a book I hought you would like. It is an anthology of Persian fables. If you are interested I will read it to you"

He watched Meg move across the room and sit opposite him. Her nightdown may have been fairly shapeless, but it showed more of her legs than we would be deemed acceptable in public and it gave him a perfect view of the outline of her breasts. Momentarily he considered closing the distance between them and carressing those breasts, running his hands across her soft skin and kissing her succulent lips. But as his.mind wandered he felt a burning sensation in his chest beneath his lapels where he kept Christine's letters. Seducing Meg was not a threshold he wished to cross; to do so would be to betray Christine, and he would not risk losing her when she had made it clear she anticipated their ruinion. Furthermore Meg Giry was undeserving of his affections, regatdless of how kind and considerate she was towards him; she was ungrateful for all he had done, believing her supposed sacrifice was greater than his. Granted, he had found Oliver to be a pleasant man - until their scuffle - but he was undeserving of Meg's grace, beauty and compassion.

"Thank you, but I can read it myself". Meg's voiced pulled him from his musings.

"You can read Fãrsi? I am sorry, I didn't know", and he stood to leave.

He was infuriatiting, "you know I can't". Meg knew Erik was well travelled and versed in several languages including some she had never heard of, but she didn't know he could speak and read Persian, which he told her was actually called Fãrsi. As he opened the book she noticed the characters were unlike anything she had ever seen and she watched him in awe as he read to her.

Meg sat and listened to Erik. Everything about him was amazing; the way he sat and spoke was graceful, how he could read and speak multiple languages, his intelligence and unusal wit. Eveytime he turned a page she watched his hands intensly. They fascinated her; his fingers were long and boney, but they were the creators of great music and art. The rest of him was much the same, he was slender but deceptively strong, and unusually tall. He wasn't conventionally good looking like Christine's Raoul, or ordinary looking like Oliver, but he had an allure about him due to the way he held himself and the way he spoke.

As he read to her Meg began to understand why Christine had believed his voice belonged to an angel. His normal conversational tone was nothing out of the ordinary, but his singing voice and the way he spoke while he read was velvety and etheral; she could easily imagine herself drifting off to sleep listening to his voice while encased in his arms.

"Shall we finish tomorrow?" Erik asked noticing that her head was starting to sag with fatigue, "you seem tired".

Meg glanced at the clock noticing it was almost 2am, "It is late. And I would enjoy if we continued tomorrow evening".

Meg escorted Erik to the door and bid him fairwell, but before he stepped over the threshold her turned back to her

"Please can you ensure that tomorrow you are not in a state of undress. Remember I am a man, and you are a very beautiful woman".

Once he had left Meg practically squeeled. He had said she was beautiful.

\--xxx--

The next evening Meg visited Erik's suite so he could continue reading, but she arrived slightly early carrying her practise clothing in a bundle. Erik's suite was larger than hers and he had his own private veranda that would be perfect for practising her leaps.

Erik was initally reluctant to allow her to practise in his room, recalling her graceful movements, perfect lines and general enchanting movements from the last time he saw her dance. The alluring nature of her dancing, especially in close proximity, could easily be his undoing. But, if she practised in his lresence he could stop the ungrateful chit from harming herself doing jêtês and pointe work - afterall he had scarificed too much for her to throw away her career.

Meg disappeared into his room to change. Erik shifted uncomfortably trying to adjust his trousers while he stared at the closed door reminding himself to remove his mind from the gutter. On the otherside of the wooden door Meg would be undressing and his mind couldn't help but imagine her peeling off layer after layer of clothing until she stood in her bloomers, corset and shift. As his trousers became increasingly uncomfortable he turned away and made his way to the veranda, ensuring he positioned his chair at the furthest point from his bedroom door.

The more he thought about Meg's behaviour the more annoyed he became: hem ad explcity told her he was a man and said she should not be in a state of undress in his presence, yet she came to his suite and changed in his room. She had not lostened to him. He had made one request and she was now ignoring it. Why was she so disrespectful?

When Meg emerged she was slightly surprised to see him sitting on the veranda expectantly. He had never been keen in ballet and she hadn't expected him to want to watch her practise; not that she didn't want him to, quite the contrary, but it made her feel more nervous.

With every pirouette, assemblé and arabesque Erik felt his annoyance toward her weign. She was such a talented dancer, and in London when she danced to his music she will truly reach previously unattainable heights. Erik held his breath as Meg lept into a grand jêtê and crumbled to the floor as her ankle was unable to support her weight. He rose to help her, but she stood and tired again before he had the chance. Again she fell. He strode across to help her up, but she pushed him away.

Meg sat back on her calves and covered her face quietly sobbing into her hands. Erik was inexperienced with crying women; when Christine had cried she had shut herself in her room, his mother's tears had always been in anger, and the women in Persia - well that was caused by fear - but Meg's tears were something else, and it genuinely pained him to.see her hurt. Part of hime wanted to reprimand her for her stupidity for attempting the move that had almost cost her career, but he didn't want to cause her more pain. In fact he wanted to hold her until the crying subsided. Unsure of how welcomed his feeble attempt at comfort may be, he offered her his hand to help her stand and then his hankerchief to wipe away the tears

Once he helped her stand Meg did something he wasnt expecting: she hugged him. Still crying she clung onto him as he stood statute and allowed her to sob against his chest. In an attempt to calm her he started to gently smooth her hair, noticing how soft it felt between his fingers: he had never touched Christine's hair and he wondered if it would feel the same. They remained in their uncomfortable embrace until Meg's crying slowly ebbed away and she broke contact.

Erik felt slightly disappointed by the sudden coldness that replaced her warm form.

"I'm sorry", Meg muttered looking at the damp patch in his shirt, embarrassed by what she was certain Erik would deem as a childish display of emotion.

"It's no matter, but If you hadn't attempted that ridiculous move you wouldn't have fallen".

"Jêtês and pointe work are part of my craft. Without them I cannot be a ballerina. I must practice tobuild the strength"

"We shall see" he mumbled almost inaudibly, as he headed to his room tonchange his shirt. He had not meant is comment to be heard, and Meg almost questioned him, butnshe decided she wasn't sure if she wanted to be privy to his plans.

When Erik returned he was wearing n a clean poet's shirt and Meg's eyes automatically trialed to his chest, and subconsciously she bit her lower lip. If Erik noticed her list filled look didn't show it, instead sitting and opening the book from the previous evening.

The story was about a man who fell in love with a pari (a fairy) and married her, leaving his other wife and children. Eventually his "worldy desires" got the better of him and he visited his first wife' and sons. Although he promised not to betray his pari wife and tell people of her supernatural origins he did. This caused her and his half-pari sons to vanish. Driven by regret he then pined for her for the rest of his life.

"I don't understand the moral of that one", Megs voice laced woth obvious confusion after he finished the story of Fayiz, "it implies he was wrong to betray his fairy wife, yet he betrayed his legal wife by marrying someone else and siring children. It was his first wife he did.wrong, not the second"

He closed the book so it made an auditable thud. She was ignorant. One moment she surprises him with her wit intelligence and another she is ignorant. He was trying to broaden her mind by sharing these stories and she can't see beyond her narrow European upbringing.

"You assume all customs are the same as yours", his voice reflecting his now choleric demeanour, "in Persia a man can have more than one wife, and none is slighted by such things. A man can behave in a way that would have him rot in gaol in Europe, but be celebrated in the East". The last sentence was more than he had planned to share, but her ignorance and narrow mindedness had irked him.

Her curiosity peaked she asked "what did you do in Persia?". His last comment made her wonder if he had committed crimes that would have him condemned in Europe, or whether he was speaking from observations rather than personal experience.

"That is not a discussion I am willing to have". He never understood the infernal curiosity of women. If it hadn't been for curiosity than Christine would never have unmasked him and ruined their tenative relationship, and if Meg pried much further then his strange friendship woth her would also end

"It's just..I..I hate to think of you in gaol. Whatever it is you may, or may not have done". Erik once again approached her. He did not understand the.woman in front of him; it seemed her comoasion knew no bounds. Onc.ethey were toe-to-toe he bent down slightly as though he was going to kiss her, and Meg titled her head upwards and closed her eyes in anticipation.

Erik almost gave into his lust created by her seemingly never ended compassion, and his desire for carnal release, but instead he stepped away reminding himself that there were other, more lonely, ways he could satisfy his needs.

"Why do you care if rotted in gaol? I certainly deserve it for the crimes I have committed"

"I believe everyone deserved redemption. Not only from God, but from themselves. The world is a complex and unforgiving place and many are forced to behave.in a way that is uncharacteristic or unnatural. It doesn't mean they are bad people, they are driven by curcumstance. Like a beggar on the street who steals to survive - he isn't a bad person, he is driven by circumstance".

"The things I have done are hardly comparable to a beggar stealing to survive", he subconsciously ran his hands smoothing his wig trying to suppress the feeling of disquiet that had over taken him.

"Then tell me", her boldness shocked herself, but the words came out on their own accord. She wanted to know about Erik's past as his past helped make him who he was, she wanted him to see how deeply she cared for him and that she could see beyond his past crimes and behaviour to who he was now. She believed that if he shared his past with her, if he understood she would accept him entirely then he would realise he loved her.

"Never". She was about to speak in response to his abrupt answer, but before she had a chance he continued, "I do not wish to share the story of Persia with you as our friendship would end...and I would very much like us to remain friends".

Meg simply nodded in response, not fully understanding but not wanting to push him further. She collected the book of Persian fables and offered it to him but he declined with a wave of his hand.

After the ballerina's departure Erik once again turned to the drinks cabinet. During this journey he was certainly drinking more than he was accustomed to; he would normally drink to savour the taste, not dull the senses. And the reason he was resorting to alcohol: Meg Giry.

He couldn't quite place why, but Meg Giry got under his skin. He couldn't deny that he found her attractive and her presence ignited a carnal thirst he was unwilling to quench due to the hurt it would cause his angel Christine, but there was something else about Meg Giry that drew him to her.

As he sat nursing his fourth glass of wine he realised that it was Meg's concern for his wellbeing and interest in his past that seemed to draw him towards her. Not a single living person had asked him about Persia, granted he wouldn't have told them, but no one, not even Antionette had asked. He swirled the deep red liquid in his glass, notcing how its blood red shade was apt considering the nature of his wanderings, and came to the conclusion that Marguerite Giry was a vixen. Although she appeared to show genuine interest in his life, he was certain it was a charade - like everything else in his life. She was incessantly curious and should be greatful that he opted not to disclose his past behaviour to her.

\--xxx--

The penultimate night of the journey from New York to Liverpool was marked in first class by an elaborate ball. Meg wore a deep blue satin dress with light blue embroidery across the bodice, and Erik ensured his carvat matched.

Erik considered the evening to have been passable, he had made sure he monopolised Meg's time to ensure he didn't have to interact with many of the other guests. On the two occasions je had to bow and allow her to dance with other gentleman he watched their hands with narrowed eyes; he would not allow another man to become too familiar with his fiancée, whether their engagement was false or not. Panic rose in his chest when he failed to spot her in the crowd following her turn around the floor with a sickly looking German Baron, but his mind was put at ease when he felt a light touch on his forearm and a gentle voice ask if they could leave.

The couple walked back towards Meg's suite in silence. Meg was attempting to build-up the courage to tell him of her feelings, and Erik wanted to question her about her brief disappearance with the Baron. Although the pair hadn't been gone long enough to partake in anything too untoward, enough time had passed for her to ruin her tentatively rebuilt reputation and embarrass him.

When they reached her suite she invited him in, requesting that he read her another Persian fable. Once settled he began to read.

"I didn't realise you could dance so well." Meg interrupted, before apologising for her rudeness.

Erik closed the book and made a deep sweeping bow, "I aim to please"

"The sarcasm is not needed Erik. I was merely complimenting you", she raised eyebrows and placed her hand to her chest in mock indignation.

Continuing with their strange game Erik took her hand and encased it in his palms, "then I apologise madomsille. The night has been truly enchanting". As he spoke Meg noticed how his eyes brightened when he smiled.

Meg's mind was filled with images of his smile, his eyes, all directed at her. She truly believed he had beautiful eyes.

Erik abruptly moved away from her muttering under his breath about lies and manipulation. He flitted between French, Russian and what she assumed was Fãrsi, before she realised she had spoken her opinion of his eyes out loud.

Erik continued to pace around the room muttering in numerous languages. To an outsider it looked like ramblings, but in reality it was his inner dialogue. He knew Meg was ungrateful, too curious and outright foolish, but she did show him a level of compassion he has never experienced. He was certain that her lack of virtue would mean she'd willingly give herself to him, but what if he succumb to his desires? Would she tell Christine? That would depend on her level of shame. Could he betray Christine? No, but would it truly be a betrayal if it occured before he and Christine were reunited?

He stopped muttering and strode towards her; his sudden change in behaviour causing her to take a step back in surprise. Meg was convenient. Meg was willing.

In one swift move her wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her against himself, kissing her fearcly. He kissed her and once her initial shock wore off she returned the kiss with equal fervour. He hands strayed from her back down to her buttocks and she pressed herself closer to him. Her hands moved to his chest and made easy work of his shirt buttons, but as soon as her hand made contact with his bare chest he pushed her away.

Meg let out a sigh of exasperation: he was always pushing her away. Whenever it seemed like he realised he had feelings for her he pushed her away. She watched as he quickly buttoned his shirt and straightend his wig, ensuring she averted her eyes when he moved to try and adjust his trousers.

"Erik? Are you alright?" she asked carefully, not sure what answer she expected or wanted.

"Why do you do this to me?" he bellowed, "I am a man. You tempt me. You lure me to you. Why? Why Marguerite, why do you do this?"

She wasn't sure if he expected an answer or whether the question was rhetorical, but with a new resolve to make him understand she responded.

"I...I...I don't mean to. I just care about you. I care about you alot", and she placed her hand on his shoulder offering what little comfort it may provide, "you must know I care about you Erik".

She waited with baited breath for his response, but her answer was non verbal: he shrugged off her hand and left the room without a word.

\--xxx--

It was the final night aboard the ship when Eeik told Meg about Persia. He hadn't slept the previous night, his mind plagued by her confession. She hadn't said she loved him, but her behaviour indicated her feelings were not entirely platonic. For his entire life he had wantes to be loved, to have.someone who cared for him, and now he had two women who held affections for him: his angel Christine and Meg.

Although he considered Meg an ungrateful chit, a shrew and a vixen, he didn't want to harm her. She tolerated his company, even seemed to prefer it, and although there may be subconscious motives to her compassion, she did appear genuinely interested in him. She was merely a foolish girl who wanted to play 'house' with her fake fiancé. He had been uncertain if the best way to end her infatuation, but then he had a wonderful idea: he would tell her about Persia.

Meg had shown an interest in what had happened in Persia, so by disclosing his past misdeeds he would effectively kill two birds with one stone: she wouldn't ask again and it would end her romantic inclinations towards him. Before he started he made her swear that after that night they would never speak of his disclosure again, or there would be consequences. He wasn't sure what these consequences would be, as normally it would be the threat of death, but he considered himself intelligent enough to improvise if needed.

Erik opted to spare Meg many of the grisly details of the Persian court, but spoke impassively of the chamber of mirrors, secret passages, political assinations and his would-be wife. He described his previous addition to opium and morphine, as well as his dangerous escapades stealing from the Shah himself.

As Erik described the rosy hours in Mazandaran Meg kept looking around the room, doing all she could to aviod eye contact with the man she believed she had grown to love. Her mouth and lips were dry, her mind reeling from the imagery his discriptions had caused. She was confused by the mixture of disgust, pity and repulsion that she felt towards him. How could she ever look upon him again and not see a drug addled cold blooded murderer?

Once he had finished her account Erik made his way towards Meg and knelt down in front of her. She felt her chest tighten and heart rate increase as he ran his hand up her arm and spoke in a highly seductive tone, "do you still want these hands to touch you?".

He noted she was shaking slightly, and took a deep breath before continuing. It pained him to behave in such a manner towards her, but he needed to do this to protect her from herself.

"Do you still want these hands here?", he traced his fingers up and down her calf, "here?" he pushed up her skirt and placed his hand on her thigh. When she didn't respond he moved his hand higher until he noticed she was shaking in terror. He quickly pulled away and considered how he could rectify this new issue, but as soon as he moved she took the opportunity to bolt for the door.

xxxxxxx

_**A/N - I'm not sure when I will be able to update next. I'm working at work for the first time in almost 4 months this week and have adulting to do. But, the entire story is planned and each chapter has a basic outline.**_

_**I'm also not sure what order the next couple of chapters should be in, so I've got to write chunks of each to see how they fit.**_


	20. XX: No one is altruistic

**_A/N - after I said I was busy adulting and probably couldn't update, here is an update._****_Thanks to St. Cyr for the review on the last chapter. I won't directly address it because I don't want to give too much away ;)_**

\--xxx--

The journey from Liverpool to London was awkward. In the presence of other people Meg, ever the actress, played the role of enamoured fiancée perfectly, but behind the closed door of their first class compartment she shied away, sitting in the corner furthest from Erik. She no longer offered coy and coquettish smiles, light touches, or tried to engage him in conversation. Instead she would play the role required of her until the time was appropriate to end their acquaintance.

If Beth had noticed the change in pairs behaviour she didnt comment, instead excitedly talking about her homeland and her desire to see her sister after so many years. As she described the small village she had once called home Meg noticed Erik stretch his legs. The increase in proximity to her own caused her to push her body closer to the side of the carriage, wishing it would consume her. She knew couldn't physically distance herself any further from Erik while.onnthe carriage and had intended on asking Beth to accompany her to.the refreshment car, but the English woman had fallen asleep clutching a small photograph of a woman Meg assumed was her sister.

Seeing that the photograph would soon slip out of her chaperone's hands Meg removed it and carefully placed it within the book at her companion 's side where she knew it would be safe and remain uncrumpled. Her movement had brought her closer to Erik, and althigh she was keeping her physical distance, that wasn't what she was struggling with. She had gathered from her mother's story that Erik had an unconventional and deplorable upbringing, and she felt sorry for his suffering, but she couldn't understand how someone who could create such beautiful things could be capable of the evil he had described.

When Erik had described the events in Persia he had spoken with such a detached indifference it seemed like he was two different people. She was struggling to reconcile the man passionate genius who had been all but consumed by his passion for her best friend and a man who openly admitted his bloodlust.

She hadn't been slept well following Erik's disclosure, so it was unsurprising when the movement of the train lulled her to sleep, , leaving Erik alone with his thoughts.

\--xxx--

Erik had avioded eye contact with Meg since the events of the previous night. He didn't entirely regret his actions; he had achieved what he desired: Meg had learnt he was a monster and was keeping her distance.

When the young woman looked at him he no longer saw compassion, instead he saw fear. He hadn't seen that level of fear in someone's eyes since he wasthe Angel of Doom. Even when he threatened Christine's Vicomte, left Buquet dangling from the rafters, and dropped the chandilier he hadn't seen the look of pure terror that Meg now had in her eyes.

As he considered his actions he decided that he didn't regret them, his only concern was that the chit of a ballet dancer would tell Christine of his past misdeeds.

He watched Meg take something from the sleeping Beth's hands and place it carefully into the woman's book before shifing back to her origional position. It was behaviour like that which incensed him; she showed kindness amd compassion and appeared not to want anything in return, but that wasn't possible. In his experience people never acted in an altruistic way, they always had a motive. This meant that Meg Giry's gentle ministrations and kind words were no different to anyone elses: her kindness and compassion were a pretense and a game. The only woman who had ever shown him true compassion was his Christine. And it wouldn't be long till her saw her again.

Once he was certain his companions were asleep Erik removed the letters from his breast pocket and re read Christine's words. Seeing her write of her longing for music and mistreatment by the boy's family angered her, but this was ebbed by her longing to see him. No matter how many times he read her beautiful script, he couldn't quite believe that his perfect angel was looking forward to seeing him.

After reading of his angels longing Erik had pledged to ensure she would once again grace the stage with her heavenly voice. He looked over the familiar writing offering him a commision at the very same theatre that had employed Meg. It would be easy to manipulate the situation to his advantage, after all, if his suspicions were correct he already had significant information that could easily be used to bribe his new employer - or employers. And if that didn't work he would have to resort to his old methods of control.

He glanced over at Meg's sleeping form; she could certainly be useful in controlling his new manager, or managers, if other methods failed. He would only resort to using her fear of him in that way if his other methods of intimidation and manipulation failed. Afterall, although she inconvenienced his life, if it wasn't for her he wouldn't be travelling to London. And if he wasn't travelling to London he wouldn't be able to see his Christine.

\--xxx--

**_A/N - I have noticed on here and on AO3 I have both ExC and MxE readers. I'm scared: some people are not going to be happy :-$_**


	21. XXI: Friends reunited

The numbers danced across the papers, seemingly to move from column to column and row to row. He had always found mathematics and accountancy fairly easy, and could have even seen himself taking seeking it as a profession if he hadn't been born a Vicomte.

Raoul was loathed to admit that he may need to employ an independent accountant to investigate the extent of his personal holdings and any

other possible means of income he could have. He knew his current outgoings did not exceed his means, but the it was quite possible that his income could deminish rapidly in a very short period of time.

The primary reason the arduous task was being made more difficult than normal was the interchangeable use of English and French in tbe annotaions. It wasn't that he struggled to read English, it was the sheer amount of it combined with general exhaustion that was becoming too much. He knew he could speak with the de Chagny accountant, but he loathed the thought of his mother or Phillppe getting wind of his plans, or he could employ an independent accountant, but there was always the chance that his family would find out. The other alternative was to ask his butler to aid in the English translations, but it wouldn't be proper to have his staff aware of his fiances and if things didn't go as planned he didn't want rumours of fiscal woes curculating among his staff.

Raoul had hoped that a letter, or worse - a visit, from his elder brother Phillppe would happen imminently and end his current existence in limbo: it was the waiting he couldn't stand. He knew that refusing his mother's instructions and embarrassing her at The Ritz could very well lead to his disinheritment and his access to family funds severed. He didn't regret his actions per se, he just wished he had more time to prepare.

In anticipation of the consequences Raoul had visited Gilles and Fermin to seek reassurance that their venture would result in a healthy return. But unsurprisingly, the latter's reassurances did little to ease his worry. He was starting to see why the Opera Ghost had such a distain for the man - the apparent suave buisnessman easily became a bumbling idiot when there was any deviation from his plans, and the Opera Ghost had constantly been causing such deviations.

Richard Firmin had argued that Marguerite Giry's employment and her engagement to the Opera Ghost would ease the application of the final stages of their plan, but what Raoul noticed he was forgetting was that the Opera Ghost did not behave in a predictable or logical manner. They assumed that the Ghist would care about Marguerite Giry's career, but Raoul knew that assumptions were a dangerous thing when it came to.delaong with th Phantom. They also believed that they had the ability to control the Ghost by using his engagement Meg Giry to manipulate him, but Raoul doubtedesuch things really mattered to the man..

Having noticed his friend's reluctance Gilles escorted Raoul from the theatre in hope that he would voice any concerns he held about their plan, but Raoul was not forthcoming. Although he liked Gilles he wasn't entirely sure he trusted him implicitly. He definitely w to tell someone he was concerned that his wife was in love with Erik Destler, and that bringing him to England may be the event that would end his marriage and leave him heartbroken, disowned and destitute. But he decided against it, not wanting Christine dragged into this venture if it could be avioded. Plus, maybe - just maybe - if he didn't voice his concerns they would stay a product of his sleep deprived and stressed mind.

\--xxx--

Christine and Raoul had taken breakfast in the parlour the morning of Meg's visit. She seemed happier following their departure from The Ritz and had even instigated intimacy that night - something she hadn't done in months - but Raoul couldn't shift the feeling it was due to Destler's arrival in England rather than his own behaviour.

As they sat dining on an English breakfast of porridge, eggs and bacon rather than their usual pastries, jam and honey, they discussed Meg's imminent arrival. He had acted surprised when she told him that her friend was engaged to a composer who had also been offered work at the theatre, and he feigned indifference when she claimed she couldn't recall the gentleman's name. As she spoke he wondered if she knew Destler would be working at the same theatre as Meg, and whether she believed it was Meg's position that had secured her fiancè's.

Once Meg had arrived Raoul had retired to his study to continue with his attempts at accountancy, leaving the two women to reacquaint themselves. He was annoyed by Christine's blatant deceit , but he hoped it might pain her to see Meg wearing Destler's ring and that he would not have to snoop for anymore letters. As long as she didn't see Destler he had decided he would forgive her transgression and pretend the letters didn't exist. He had not been privy to her letters, only Destler's reponses, but those had been enough to make him question his wife's feelings towards the composer. Although none of the letters outlined Destler's undying live Raoul knew the man had loved his wife wih such passion that he wouldn't be easy to forget, but it wasn't the composer's felings he was concerned about: he feared his wife loved the Phantom.

\--xxx--

The two friends discussed Meg's journey across the Atlantic and her chaperone's decision to continue travelling to the south coast to see her family rather than stay in London. Meg had explained that her mother would be furious at Beth's actions and that the woman was lucky an entire ocean seperated them. Meg spoke of her ankle and the difficulties she was having including her concern that she may be unable to perform, and Christine recounted the evening at the Ritz and Raoul's behaviour.

"It was frightfully embarrassing, but I have never felt more attracted to him", Christine laughed as she placed her fine bone china tea up down on the table to prevent it from spilling. "I had never seen him act in such a way; it was incredibly enthralling!"

Meg chuckled at her friend and was about to respond with a crass comment about the benefits of marriage, but Christine spoke before she had the opportunity.

"How is Erik?" Meg mirrored her friend's actions, except placed her cup down with more care due to the fear she would break it and carefully studied her friend. She was playing with her wedding ring, twisting it around her finger and sliding it up towards her knuckle before pushing it back down again. Meg couldn't tell if this was a subconscious action relfecting her feelings towards Erik, or one caused by anxiety.

"He is fine. He told me he has an appointment with the theatre manager tomorrow to discuss his commission". Her eyes caught a rather delicious looking butter biscuit, "does Raoul know his contacts have employed him?"

"No no no", Christine shook her head almost violently, "I don't know how to tell him. He would be really angry with me".

"Tell him you found out today. Say I told you. We could even have an argument before I leave to make him think you are angry at me".

"No. Erik doesn't deserve that". Christine's response made Meg feel uncomfortable: Erik doesn't but Raoul does? Why was she willing to upset Raoul for Erik's sake? The possible answers to that question filled her with dread and anxiety. Meg knew Erik was dangerous man; more dangerous than Christine could ever imagine, and the thought of her married friend seeking a clandestine meeting with him made her nauseous with worry - but of course she had her own feelings to deal with.

Meg was struggling to reconcile the Erik she knew with the man who had commited such deplorable acts.He was a volatile man, yet he created such beauty when he composed; he was highly intelligent and witty, yet he thought nothing of hurting her with hisnsbarp tounge; his touch ignited desire within her, but hiis hands had committed more crimes than she cared to know.

Meg knew that Christine, even though se had experienced so much in her lifetime, was more niavë and God fearing than herself, would probably become hysterical if she told her about Erik's time in Persia. She couldn't do that, but she could deter her from seeking him out in a different way.

"He kissed me" Meg blurted out in a desperate attempt to show her friend that Erik wasn't a good man. Her motives were far from selfless; of Christine offered Erik would come running like a dog lapping at her feet, and Meg felt she needed time to sort out her own feelings before she dealt with the possible carnage that could be forthcoming.

Christine smirked. Meg had rarely seen her friend with such an expression, it seemed so uncharacteristic and out of place on her nornally soft and inviting complexion. "To be honest I assumed you would have", her choice of pronouns was not missed by Meg. "You are pretending to be engaged, and he has _something_ about him doesn't he?". When Meg didn't immediately respond Christine continued, "he is very seductive when he wants to be. Especially when he sings".

Christine poured herself another cup of English tea before she spoke again,

"I'm a married woman. Who Erik cavorts with is not my concern"

"Cavorts? You make it sound as though a simple kiss between us makes me a prostitute!" Her friend's choice of words made it clear to Meg that Christine certainly had some kind of feelings towards her former tutor

"That wasn't what I meant".

"Wasn't it? Christine, your choice of words betray you. Do you have feelings for Erik? If it helps pretend you are not the Vicomtess de Chagny and are a member of the ballet chorus. We are in the dorm at the Populaire and are gossiping about our admirers. Tell me honestly".

The Vicomtess took a sip of tea refusing to meet her friend's eyes. "I don't know. I love Raoul, but I am unhappy. I miss music, I miss singing amd I miss Erik's company. I know it is foolish but when I was sad Erik would sing to me and I would feel happier"

"You know he is a dangerous man don't you?"

"He would never hurt me", Christine responded with a sigh, "but it doesn't matter anyway. Even if my feelings for him were beyond platonic - which I don't know if they are - I am married to Raoul. I made my choice and I accept...am trying to accept it".

Meg closed her eyes and rubbed the her temples. She was starting to get a headache. Too much had been said in this conversation, and she was still trying to reconcile her own feelings for Erik, the last thing she had needed to hear Christine's confession. If Erik knew that his protégé had some kind of feelings for him, he would do everything in his power to win her heart.

She faced a dilemma: she knew Erik was dangerous, but she wanted Christine to be happy, and Erik's music made her happy. Would discouraging her from seeking him out, or vice versa, even work? Maybe she needs to see him to figure out her own feelings. With a heavy sigh she opened her eye

"But you are not happy with Raoul. You told me yourself". Her heart felt like someone had it in a vice-like grip as she spoke. She didn't want Christine to seek out Erik, but she wasn't entirely sure why.

"AsI Isaid, I'm not completely happy. I miss music, and Raoul's mother is awful. I've told him that I miss music, and that I long to sing, and I do think he understands. It's his mother and family - they are the ones who won't allow it. I honestly believe that if it were upto Raoul he wouldn't mind".

\--xxx--

It had started to rain by the time Meg had left the de Chagny residence. She and Raoul had made polite conversation, with her thanking him for his help securing her new position and him commenting on the beauty of her engagement ring. His comment had made her uncomfortable; she didnt like to draw attention to her ring because she didn't like to think about all the things it didn't represent and all the things it should; a few days ago he had hope it meant more, or at least that it could, her conversation with Christine had smashed that feeling into a thousand pieces.

Meg had turned down the Vicomte's offer of his carriage and instead opted to walk back to her hotel. As she walked through the residential streets she imagined herself living in one of the lavish houses, having a husband who loved her, and possibly even children. As it stood she would have none of those things. She subconsciously touched her engagement ring wondering if she still held feelings for Erik knowing his crimes, and whether Christine wpuld ever be fully aware of her former tutor's past life.

She had been walking for almost ten minutes and the bottom of her dress had become heavy with rain water. Annoyed she ducked into the entrance of an alleyway that lead to the servants entrances of two grand houses. She wasn't far from the hotel - another ten minutes - fifteen at most- and as long as her petticoats weren't soaked she could probably manage to be terribly scandalous and hike up her skirt above her ankles for the remainder of her journey.

As she bent to lift up the hem of her skirt and look at her petticoats, a gloved hand covered her mouth and a thin arm snaked around her waist, pulling her further into the alleyways and the shadows. Meg instinctively started kicking and struggling to get free, but her efforts ceased when she recognised the voice that whispered in her ear.

As soon as he released her Meg spun to face him

"What are you doing!? Have you lost your mind?" she spat

"I wanted to talk to you" Erik said with an indifferent shrug.

"So you grab me in an alleyway? I thought you were going to...to...well..." she needn't finish her declaration for he nodded in recognition.

Erik was annoyed that she didnt seem as scared as she had last time they had been alone. He didn't understand what was wrong with the young woman who sood in front of him - he had told her he was a cold blooded murderer, yet now she stood infront of him defiant. He needed to rectify this immediately, she needed to fear him and she needed to be constantly weary of his actions,

"Would that be so bad Meg my dear? I don't recall you refusing before"

Her eyes widened in terror. They had never consumated their fake relationship, so why did he speak as though they had. Meg considered if he was truly mad; that would explain his story about Persia - if he was unstabke it may not be true, that would explain how the Erik she knew could also be the Angel of Doom.

Erik was pleased to see that the look of terror had returned to her face. As he took a single step towards her, she took two steps back stretching her hands out behind her to try and find the wall of the house. "I asked you a question Marguerite"

"There was never a before" she managed to stutter as her back made contact with the wall.

"You wouldnt have refused" he said with a smirk, "but don't worry. I have never violated a woman and I don't intend on starting now". Then, as though his intimidating behaviour was nothing, he abruptly changed the topic, "did you tell her?"

Meg should've guessed. Of course this was about Christine. Everything always was, "Tell her what?"

He was upon her now, his eyes were onimous and wild. Momentarily she thought he was going to kiss her amd they would both become embroiled in passion: her confused lustings and his desire for Christine. If he had tried she would habe succumbed, but his focus upon Christine distracted him fom his carnal lustings for Meg.

"You know what"

She couldn't help that her body was involuntarily shaking. She knew he wouldn't rape her, he had plenty of opportunity to indulge in carnal pleasures with her, but he had always turned away. She reminded herself that this was all a power game; he was asserting his dominance over her and using that to extract information. It was manipulation and he had told her he was a master manipulator.

"I've told her nothing she didn't already know".

"Good"


	22. XXII: Not a choice

Having spent years beneath the opera house Erik was accustomed to the cold and damp, but he doubted he would ever understand why people chose to live in a country known for its rain. England was a dreary country, and London a dirty place. The air was thick with smog, the streets lined with the poor, and it was dreadfully loud. On his journey from Liverpool to London he had listened to Beth harp on about her wonderful village and the beauty of the Englsih countryside and how much of a contrast it was to London. He had decided that if Christine wished to stay in England he would suggest moving to the countryside; the transport links into the city were good and they could live a secluded life with him going to the city when needed.

Erik had found himself a concealed spot in the square opposite the de Chagny residence. He was conscious that he was lurking in a communal space, and that his tall frame, dark attire and black mask cast him as a sinnister figure to anyone who would have seen him. One not too far removed from the infamous Whitechapel murderer that had terrorised the East End not many years earlier. He made sure that his vantage point was not viewable from any of the other homes in the square, although it had not been an easy feat - even for the Phantom.

Hours passed as he carefully watched the house with nothing of consequence happening. If the Vicomte had left he would have approached Christine's home, yet there were no comings or goings, even from the 0ervant's entance. He shook his head in indignation - this must be a dull existence for someone as bright and talented as his Christine.

Erik's breath was caught in his throat when he saw Christine's unmistakable silhouette against the curtains of the third floor bedroom.

He would wait, and when he was certain the house was still he would enter her room. It would be easy, scaling the wall would be simple due to the location of windows and wines, the maid had left Christine's window agar and he would be able to slide it up with almost no effort. He leave her gift and the note asking her to join him for luncheon on her dressing table. Once it was done he would leave. It would be the leaving that would be hard.

It was just after 11 when he had climbed into her room with relative ease. He had decided he wouldn't look upon her, for she looked beautiful when asleep. Erik had begun to make his way to her dressing table when he heard a sharp intake of breath behind him. He froze expecting a scream, but there was nothing more than a sigh, he turned to look at her.

Christine's dark hair was tied in small ribbon to add to her curls, her lips were slightly parted in sleep and he wondered if they would taste as he remembered. Meg Giry didn't taste of anything other than whatever she had drank, but Christine was sweet. Meg was human, but Christine ethereal.

He felt compelled to touch her face and feel the softness of her skin, but as he reached for her his hand was stilled by the turning of the door knob and he quickly withdrew. The room was dark, but the curtains inefficient at preventing the moonlight seeping through the inappropriate fabric. Evendressed entirely in black and wearing a black mask he didn't believe he would be able to blend sufficiently into his surroundings, and to be caught in a woman's room, a married one's no less, would end in imprisonment or a violent death from an angry spouse. Erik could have leapt from the window, but he was unwilling to abandon his task, he could incapacitate whoever entered room, but considering it was likely to be the Vicomte Christine would be unimpressed. There seemed to be nowhere except under her bed.

As the footsteps approached his hiding place Erik felt his body tense. The sound of a striking match followed by the Amber glow of a lit candle was accompanied by an all-to-familiar male voice rousing the sleeping woman

"Raoul, what are you doing here? It must be very late", Christine spoke while pulling herself up into a sitting position and rubbing her sleep filled eyes.

"I was lonely. I was hoping you could keep me company tonight".

Erik closed his eyes tightly. If there was a God in heaven then surely now he deserved a reprieve. He had done unspeakable things in his lifetime, but subjecting him to what was about to unfold would destroy his fragile, yet rebuilt sanity. Of course he knew his angel's marriage had be consumated, he wasn't foolish enough to believe that her husband would not ask for what is his by law, but he had pushed the thoughts from his mind. If he ever thought of Christine engaged in such activities, which was fairly often, it was with him and no-one else.

Christine considered her husband's request. She had gone to sleep with muddled thoughts and emotions, unsure of her feelings for Erik but also knowing she loved her husband dearly. She could see Raoul was struggling, torn between duty and expectation and his love for her. From Raoul's perspective he had decended into the bowels of hell itself and rescued her from damnation. What he hadn't realised was she had chosen to stay with Erik and it was Erik who had sent her away; Raouk had tried to save her but failed, it was Erik who had truly given her freedom.

As a good Catholic woman Christine hated being embroiled in deciet and feared she was perilously close to breaching her wedding vows through her secretive letters and inappropriate thoughts. She had decided she would visit church tomorrow and seek absolution, but in the meantime should could give herself to Raoul in apology for her insincere behaviour. No stranger to lustful thoughts and no longer innocent Christine feared that her mind would become invaded with thoughts of another while she laid with her husband, and she felt that would be a greater betrayal.

Making an exaggerated gesture of exhaustion by rubbing her eyes and yawning Christine voiced her decision. "Not tonight Raoul dear. I am so very sorry, but I am so very tired",

Seemly not dissapointed nor unsurprised Raoul kissed his wife's crown before bidding her goodnight and good dreams.

Once the door closed Christine sunk down into her bed and closed her eyes willing sleep to return, but her mind was invaded with thoughts and images that were not becoming of a respectable woman.

Erik waited for her breathing to deepend before he slid out from his hiding place. If tonight had taught him anything itnwas to be thankyou for small mercies. If he had been subjected to the Vicomte's and his angel's love making he knew he wouldn't have been able to control himself, and then everything he planned on doing to secure their new life together would have been for nought.

Once he was at his dressing table he removed his folio and the letter from beneath his cape

"Bring it to me". Her voice made him physically jump and drop what he was holding to the floor. Frantically he scooped up the documents and, still kneeling, stared at the woman who had beckoned him.

"Erik, please bring it to me" she repeated with a smile, outsretched arm and open palm. In response he stood but still made no attempt to move towards her until she patted the bed inviting him to sit.

"We need to be quiet as Raoul's room is next door"

Her words made his mind go into overdrive, rapidly darting from one thought to the next. She had denied the fop and was now telling him that they needed to be quiet. Surely she wasn't going to offer herself to him? He knew the answer, but be couldn't help his mind wandering towards his fantasies.

When his legs finally began to work and he had made his way to her bed he began to feel a familiar throbbing sensation in his groin. His angel was so close and only in her nightdress. Her skin looked smooth and he wondered whether it would be as soft as Meg's. Realising that Christine would notice his arousal he crossed his legs.

Christine leaned forward and took the folio from his hands holding towards the candlelight. Seeing her silhouetted by candelight, giving her a heavenly and celestial aura, he felt the need to shift slightly and turn his lower body away from her.

He waited with baited breath as she read his composition, he didn't need people'sapproval, but he would always want hers. "This will sound beautiful I am sure. I am very grateful. You see, I do miss music and the last composition you sent was perfect".

"I have the perfect muse" he said immediately, his words leaving his mouth before he had a chance to think about the most appropriate response.

Christine felt the heat rise in her cheeks, "Erik, may I ask: how did you get in here?"

"Your window", he said in a dimissory tone, "you probably should dismiss the maid who left it agar"

"But we are on the third floor. It is perfectly safe. No one...", but her words trailed off when she realised who she was speaking to.

"Are you not frightened to have a man who is not your husband in your room?"

"You do not frighten me, but I do believe your presence is an insult to my husband and your fiancée".

Erik scoffed in response. He cared little for Meg Giry's opinion on his relationship with Christine. "You know my engagement isn't real"

"But my marriage is".

"Yet you don't scream"

"I do not".

The sat in silence, neither knowing what to say. Erik knew if he acted too rashly she would ruin everything, but if he delayed the natural moment to ignite his plan could pass.

"You never did explain why you miss me so much, especially as you called me a 'pitiful creature'". He knew the reference was cruel and would likely cause her pain, but he also knew Christine was the sweetest and kindest person he had ever encountered: she may have said those words, but he knew she regretted it, and he was giving her the opportunity to correct herself.

"I am sorry for my unkind words. What I said was truly dreadful". Erik noticed a single tear glide down her cheek and he reached out to wipe it away. As his hand made contact with her soft flesh she closed her eyes and leaned into his caress.

Erik shifted closer to her, "do you regret your choice?" he whispered

"You forget I chose you", she oursed her lips in anticipation of a kiss, but instead he briskly removed his hand a let out a stifled laugh.

"That was hardly a free choice. Marry me or I kill the boy. I knew you wouldn't have another's life on your hands. It wasn't a choice Christine", he was shaking his head in dissapointment. He had believed she had understood and that she had forgiven him, but in reality she was far too innocent to see the manipulation she had been subjected to. It made him wonder whether she had realised that the majority of their relationship was built on smoke and mirrors, and whether she had truly forgiven him. For how can you forgive a crime you didn't know existed?

"It wasn't a free choice" she said vapidly.

He found her niavity whimsical and endeering, but at times her insipid behaviour was tiring. At least when he was in Marguerite's company he needn't worry about jejune conversation- unless she was talking about ballet - but that in itself had caused different problems, one that he now believed had been sufficiently dealt with and rectified.

"I would like you to leave"

The dull ache in his groin had subsided following the turn in conversation and the conclusion of their contact. Erik unceremoniously fell to his knees, twisting to face her in the process. He grasped both of her small hands tightly, "forgive me" he pleaded, but her attempt to pull her hands away in objection only tightened his grip. "Please"

"I shall scream" she hissed directly in his face, the surprise of her action causing him to finally release his grip and fall backwards slightly.

He sat on the floor before her looking broken, and he heart ached for him. She knew he was nothing but a man, and a man who had been subjected to terrible abuse. Granted, he had never told her the explicit details of his childhood, but he had shared enough to enable her to understand that he had never felt love. He didn't know how to express it. Overcome with guilt, she conceeded:

"I shall think about forgiving you. Now please leave, I cannot bare to look upon you right now".

Once back at the hotel Erik cursed his own stupidity. He had assumed she had realised her choice was not really a choice, and that he had manipulated her into believing it was. She was angry, but she would forgive him. She would forgive him because she was the kindest and most compassionate person he had ever known. Her kindness and compassion was real, whereas everyone else's was the result of self-absorbed and ego-centric behaviour.

He would reward Christine for her kindness by getting her a gift, and he knew exactly what she wanted.

\--xxx--

The next morning André and Firmin hurried through the halls learning to their office, both men concerned that they would be late or ill-prepared for their midday meeting.

André had not slept well, "I still think this is dangerous" he mumbled following his buisness partner.

"Don't be daft - we have the upperhand", Fermin responded as her opened the door.

Casually sitting in Firmin's chair, feet upon the desk, and an amused smirk was the Opera Ghost.

"Gentleman. I believe we have a commission to discuss"


	23. XXIII: I know she loves me

Alienists had noted that when people were put under undue and insurmountable stress some would laugh. This could be out of courtesy in an attempt to deffuse the situation or out of nervousness. For Gilles André it was certainly the latter.

He knew he would come face-to-face with the Opera Ghost at some point in the near future, but he had not expected to find him sitting casually at his buisness partner's desk. The Ghost - the man - cut a distinguished figure dressed in a light grey sack coat with matching trousers, exentuated by a black baroque waistcoat. His pristine attire, although consisting of more colour compared to his time at the Populaire , reminded Gilles that the man in front of him was not a gentleman - he was a pooter - much like Firmin

Raoul had told him that Erik Destler had managed to ingratiate himself into New York society - looking like a dapper gentleman - but Gilles had not been prepared for the sight in front of him. Of course, it made sense - he was enaged to Marguerite Giry and a woman such as she would look out of place upon the arm of anyone other than a gentleman. Yes, the Opera Ghost may have been no more than a ruffian dressed in fine clothing, but his manner and presence had lured two fine women into his orbit.

Gilles felt a twinge of jelousy as looked at his old enemy: not only had this man almost managed to win the heart of the outstanding Christine Daae, he had now encaptured Meg Giry's heart. Not only that, Raoul seemed to believe he posed a real threat to his marriage. Anyman with any sense would be happy to have the love of one woman, so why try and steal another man's wife? To him it made no sense, but he had never been so passionately in love with someone that he lost all sense of reason.

Firmin on the otherhand stood tall, in am almost laughable attempt to intimate the seated man. Gilles almost shook his head in disbelief as he watched his buisness partner's behaviour; he knew Richard had a plan, and that they were already playing with fire, but he could very well be staring into the abyss.

Gilles was taken aback when Erik rose, he remembered the man as tall, but he had forgotten the extent of hisntowering figure. As if to mock the other man Erik bowed deeply and gestured to the chair he had been occupying, glancing briefly at Gilles before locking eyes with Richard and stepping aside to allow him to take ownership of his seat.

Gilles waited for Erik to take a seat opposite Richard and then sheepishly made his was to his own desk, reluctant to turn his back on their latest employee, mentally cursing how bad this idea had been.

Without a word Erik reached for the decanter containing an amber liquid - that he assumed to be whisky - on the desk, making an over exaggerated gesture if checking the time before speaking again, "it is past noon, so do you mind?". Butnhis enquiry was nothing more than a rhetorical question for he continued, "of course you don't. Good management treat their talent well, especially when they have competing offers of commisions from across the globe".

"You can't travel to Europe", Richard Firmin said without thinking

"But Richard, I am in Europe", Erik spoke with an exaggerated gesture of his hands, "I knew you were not - as the English put it - the top-hole trump - but having such a poor understanding of geography is very concerning for a man in your position"

"I know England is in Europe, you... you...", he was unsure if what to say having lost his nerve almost immediately confounded by Erik's now towering form looming over him.

Fearful of his partner's safety Gilles quickly interceeded, hopeful they could enter into the final stages of their plan and move on, "Richard, Monsieur Destler, I believe we have buisness to discuss..."

\--xxx--

Upon leaving Erik realised he had underestimated Gilles André, and that if he hadn't had Richard Firmin's interference he may have made an acceptable manager for the Populaire.

He had tongive the men credit: they had noticed a new interest, a gap in the market per se, and if they became pioneers of this new amalgated approach to theatre production then they would certainly make a fortune.

His primary condition of employment had been clear: Christine would sing the the lead. She had told him in her letters how much she missed music: how she felt lonely and wished she could sing his music to an audience. She hadn't elaborated on why she couldn't sing, but he knew: Raoul. Her career and talent was being stifled by her fop of a husband, his concern being his status and not the angel's wellbeing. Erik hated the man for taking her from him, but he hated him more - if that was possible - for denying the world her talent to maintain an obsolete and arbitory title.

The piece he had given Christine the pevious night was for her and not part of his larger composition he had written in anticipation of his meeting with the managers, although hearing the reason they had sought him out rather than forget the solid affair in Paris meant he needed to make some adjustments. There would need to be a mixture of caberet and ballet, comedy and political overtures. It was easily done, but he would need to update his knowledge on some of the more scintillating aspects of modern dance. He

would need to venture into the caberet curicut to update his knowledge, as it had been years since he had set foot in the Moulin Rouge.

As for Christine she would play his lead. A beautiful and innocent girl thrust into caberet dancing due to poverty caused by her guardian's unscrupulous buisness activities. She would be pure and innocent using her heavenly voice to draw the audience into her struggle. It would be implied she danced, but she never would - leaving the audiance wanting more, whereas Meg would be the opposite. She would be the temptress, the one to try and lead the angel into the depravity of the dance. Meg would be overtly seductive, whereas Christine's innocence would draw them in. He had pledged that Meg would not dance in a vaudeville show, but with him as the orchestrator it wouldn't be too offensive to her classically trained principles.

\--xxx--

Once the Opera Ghost had outlined his idea Firmin had been estatic: it was exactly what he had envisaged: a mixture of vice and art. Christine Daae and Meg Giry - two women embroiled in the scandal at the Opera Populaire, Christine a headliner in Paris and Meg one in New York, performing a show written by Erik Destler, renowned composer. It would bring in a small fortune.

Gilles on the other hand was less enthralled by the prospect.

"You know the Vicomte de Chagny will not allow the Vicomtess to perform. He has been clear that until he is no longer financially dependant on his family he cannot risk further scandal".

Firmin shrugged indifferently, indicating he did not care for their sleeping partner's concerns.

"Richard be reasonable. Destler tried to kill him and kidnapped his wife. Raoul has done us a great favour by setting the wheels in motion for this venture, his only stipulation was that the Vicomtess be left out of this"

"Oh calm yourself! I never said she would perform, merely thay she can. Think of it Gilles! The Opera Ghost will believe her husband is the only hinderence to her performing and there will be such gossip when he acts. You know what he did for the love of that woman, imagine what he will do now he can coherce her to sing openly."

Gilles had a sinking feeling in his stomach: that was exactly what he was scared of.

\--xxx--

As Gilles walked through Regent's Park towards the de Chagny residence he observed how the weather had improved since yesterday, then imprecated himself at how he was slowly becoming an English upper-middle-class gentleman. He prided himself on having been asily welcomed into the newly established upper-middle class, but it to be start commenting on something as quintensially British as the weather was slightly demoralising. He liked the country and some of their way, but he missed his homeland. Maybe, once a fortune had been made he could retire back to the outskirts of Paris.

He had never been to the de Chagny residence for fear of disturbing theory of the house. Raoul had been clear that his wife was not to know about their association until he deemed fit, but Gilles believed that such a request could be forfiet given the curcumstances. Afterall, it would be a servant that answered the door and if their master wasn't home he could make a swift exit.

He had been informed by a rather stern looking butler that the Vicomte could be found at his club, which was a relief to the elder French man as he would not need to trapse around London looking for his friend. Such a task would be arduous and difficult as he wasn't entirely sure what the Vicomte did when he wasn't at the club.

Once he had arrived and been relieved of his hat and coat it didn't take Gilles long to locate his friend. He found him engaged in a game of cards with a Russian nobel who claimed kinship with Tsar Nicholas and a German Baron who had only recently arrived in the country.

Having caught his friend's eye and rather concerned expression Raoul forfeited the game and followed Gilles to a private room that was often used for less-than-legal buisness dealings.

"What ails you?" Raoul enquired as he poured both himself and Gilles a large port, offering the largest measure.to his clearly unnerved friend.

"The Ghost - Destler - came to the theatre today. Used his normal theatrics to gain enterence, but he insisting your wife sing".

Raoul had known this was coming. His wife had been writing to the damned Opera Ghost and had probably told him she missed singing and he was the cause.

"Get me an advance on my money and she can not only sing, but dance as well. I followed through on my part of this God awful plan...much to my own personal risk.", Raoul absent minded twisted his wedding ring; he needed to tell some, free some of the pressure on his chest.

"I man lost my friend. She loves me, I know she does, but she is frightfully unhappy without her - without his - music", he crossed and stared out of the window. It was dusk and the greyish yellow smog was starting to settle and prevent the dimming sunlight reach the streets below. With a hefty sigh he continued, "When I agreed to this I believed hearing his music would be enough, maybe seeing him would help her, but I was wrong", he then l et out a nervous chuckle before facing his companion, "she has been writing to him - in secret of course - but Gilles, I fear she loves him".

"But he is a murderer! He tried to kill you!"

Raoul had tears in his eyes as he began to speak. He was very well aware that Destler had tried to kill him and it pained him beyond reason to think his lovely wkfe could harbour feelings for someone who acted so despicably. "It seems such things can be forgiven or at least overlooked"

"That explains his relationship with mademoiselle Giry". Gilles hadn't meant to speak those words aloud, and the strangeness of the misplaced comment was reflected in his friend's expression.

Gilles felt his heart leap slightly after Raoul had recounted his understanding of the relationship between Marguerite Giry and Erik Destler. As the two were not engaged, and as the Opera Ghist had no romantic feelings for Meg Giry, it was possible he could court her. Her mother was safely on the otherside of the Atlantic Ocean and it was apparent that an age difference didn't seem to bother Meg; Destler was at least fifteen years her senior.

"I was thinking of telling Christine I know of her correspondence, but I am scared. If I had money, an advance on what I am owed, then I could let her sing" he added at the end of the story in a sullen tone. "I travelled to a different continent to lure him here. I bribed police officials, and risked my wife's sanity! My wife who I believe has feelings for the man - the monster!"

"If it were up to me my friend I would, but the accounts need both Richard's and I's signature, and he won't. He had been quite clear he wants to see how this whole thing plays out".

Raoul didn't often rise to anger but the impudence of Richard Firmin was too much, "He what? Well I assure you Gilles André: Christine shan't sing until I get my money. Opera Ghost and Richard Firmin be damned!"


	24. XXIV: Jêtês and Pointe Work

**_A/N - Thank.you Kimberly84 for your kind words :)_**

\--xxx--

Since Erik's disclosure regarding his activities in Persia Meg had always made excuses to avoid private dining. At first her refusals had been due to fear, for what he had told her went beyond her worst nightmares, but following her visit with Christine she had come to realise her reluctance was caused by something more.

She had recieved a note from her bethrothed requesting she join him for dinner via the concierge, as bad become their custom. It wouldn't have been difficult for Erik to find her, she had spent most of the day in her suite practicing, but she assumed that even the fabled Phantom of the Opera could only face rejection a limited number of times.

Before Erik had told her about Persia Meg would have fretted about her choice of clothing and how she wore her hair and make-up, but now she merely made herself feel presentable. Something had changed: before she had wanted Erik to desire her, to realise he loved her, but now she felt she needed to distance herself from such feelings until she could reconcile the man she had come to know with the self-proclaimed Angel of Death.

She she cheked her appearance once more in the mirror the dancer wished that her emotions were as fickle as some of the other women she had known; that way she could ignore her feelings for Erik and bide her time until they went their seperate ways. Instead she found herself wrestling with her utter disdain at how casually Erik had spoken of bloodlust and the all-consuming compassion she felt for his plight. She wanted to know what had driven a man who had shown her kindness, compassion and friendship to become a cold-blooded murderer.

When Meg arrived for dinner Erik found himself slightly dissapionted in her appearance. He had a penchant for beautiful things and there was no denying Meg was beautiful, but her effort that evening seemed substandard. She worea green dress embrodered with deeper green vines across her skirt, her blouse was a matching colour and trimmed with white lace to the neckline. The neckline was much higher than her normal evening attire and he windered whether this was due to the incident in the alleyway and if she had finally tired of his lecherous behaviour. The dress was beautiful, but without her accompanying smile the whole ensemble just looked substandard.

Noticing his apparent discourse Meg immediately enquired if something was wrong, only to be rebuffed with complaints about tardiness and how he was not a paitent man. Meg had made a long glance towards the clock and rolled her eyes; she was under five minutes late.

They ate in relative silence for the first two courses before Erik thumped his palm onto the table in an outburst of frustrated emotion. The sudden break in the peace caused he to drop her fork, causing it to clatter onto the china plate.

"Can you no longer speak?"

She was surpised her silence had irked him as he had previously complained about her "chatter" and "blathering", claiming to be a man who preferred silence.

"Do you not care to enquire after my day?" Erik continued when she failed to respond to his intial question. Meg Giry was truly insufferable. The woman was meant to be his fiancée and yet she cared not for how his day had been. "You are my fiancée after all" he said sharply in an attempt to evoke a response.

"Of course Erik _dear_. How was your day?" not attempting to hide her sarcastic tone. She didn't understand his behaviour; he had become more aloof and abrupt since their arrival in England. She fiddled with her engagement to try and occupy her hands while she prepared for Erik's ranting.

Following Meg's response Erik sat back in his chair amused and slightly irritated by her impudence. The use of such an endearment was an attempt to mock him, and a clever one considering he had referred to his position of authority over her. But once again, Marguerite appeared to have forgotten that she.could not manipulate the master manipulator.

"I am glad you asked Marguerite, _my sweet",_ his tone now mimicked hers. "I discussed your role with our new employers. They agreed that you should be the lead dancer, not a prima ballerina as the show doesn't have one, but it is an equivalent position"

Meg squeeled in excitement. She immediately felt guilty for being curlish, for Erik must've used some leverage to get her the position without her auditioning.

"oh Erik that is wonderful!" he stood and hurridly moved to embrace him. The embrace was not easy as he remained seated but she threw both arms around his chest and hugged him regardless. "I hoped I would get a.solo or.two, but to be prima already - it is more than I could have wished for"

Erik couldn't supress the smile caused by her sheer joy, knowing she would be even happier when she discovered she wouldn't have to do any jêtês or dance en pointest importantantly, he had made something she believed only attainable in her dreams come true.

"Thank you Erik" she said for the third time before releasing him from the hug and gave him a peck on his masked cheek. He felt a sense of satisfaction knowing that he had made her happy, and that his next piece of news would make her happier. He knew he had caused her pain, and he hoped that this rather small gesture would be enough to let her overlook his confessions about Persia.

"I must confess, the reason you are not prima ballerina is because the dance will be a mixture of classical ballet and more - shall we say - modern methods"

"Oh that is fine", she responded hurridly encasing him in hug once more. For Erik to have convinced their new employers to give her the position of lead dancer without an audition he must have sung her praises convincingly, "Will you listen to my ideas? I know it is your show, but will you let me help choreograph? Unofficially of course".

Erik couldn't place why, but her smile and excitement seemed contagious. Meg was standing before him bobbing up and down in the same way a small child tried to exert unused energy. He had seen her smile many times, a beautiful broad smile that made her eyes brighter and added to her beauty, but the smile she currently wore

wqs special: he had caused it. Erik knew he had made her smile many times, but his smile was caused by his own actions; actio s he had purposefully done for her. He felt himself smile as she hugged him again in anticipation of his answer

"I am sure your insight would be invaluable my dear", this time when used the endearment there was no hint of sarcasm in his voice, "but there will be no jêtês or pointe work".

Meg took a few steps backwards, looking and feeling confused. Erik had never shown much interest in ballet, but he had respected her mother's choreography, and jêtês and pointe work were integral features. She didn't understand.

"Why will there be no jêtês or pointe work? They are essential to ballet and I want to do them"

Erik once again felt his irritation rise. Marguerite Giry was being ungrateful - again. He was purposefully leaving jêtês and pointe work out of his work because of the risk of injury to her. After everything he had done, everything he was still doing; she continued to be ungrateful.

"Why? Why?" he roared as he stood, "to prevent yourself from injury you ungrateful chit". It was more than he had intended on saying, but her effrontery towards his role as director and composer, combinded her thanklessness had clouded his mind.

Meg had distanced herself from Erik the moment he had stood. Upon hearing his confession her jaw went slack and she rushed towards him.

The impact of her embrace caused Erik to take a few steps back, but he found himself smiling broadly at the tightness of her hold.


	25. XXV: Uninvited House Guest

It was another dreary day that matched both Christine's and Raoul's mood. Much to the couples displeasure the Doweger Comtess had decended on their home without prior notice and caused a rawkus that neither could have prepared for.

Christine tried to play the role of devoted and dilligent society wife, as well as an effective lady of the household, but under Raoul's mother's scrutiny even the smallest mistake was criticised.

One of the many problems Christine faced was that her mother-in-law had arrived the day after Erik had interloped into her bedroom and admitted her had fooled her into believing she had been the orchestrator of their final exchange below the opera house, whereas in reality he had continued to manipulate her into believing she had chosen him.

After she had discovered the truth about the events of that night, and he knelt before her begging forgiveness, she had been uncharacteristically angry. She didn't rise to temper often, instead she would sulk and withdraw, and it had always diffused the situation in the past. However, from her perspective Erik's actions had been so incomprehensible that she couldn't begin to empathise with his behaviour.

As she had lay in her bed she had thiught about that interaction, and guilt began to grow in the pit of her stomach. Upon reflection his behaviour made sense - to Erik anyway - as he had admitted he had never felt love or had the "joys of the flesh". She too was innocent, but she had experienced familial love as well as the tenderness and affection of a lover, something Erik hadn't. The more she thought about it the more she came to accept that Erik's behaviour made sense to him and as long as he was remorseful for how she treated him she could look past it. After all, it was for God not man to pass judgement.

The lack of time between Erik's departure and the Dowager s arrival had meant she had little time to consider whether she would meet Erik as he requested. In his letter he had asked her to learn the song he had gifted, or at the very least bring it with her to their meeting. With Raoul's overnearing and interfering mother lurking around her home Christine didn't have time to learn the sing, but if she were to meet Erik she could certainly bring it with her.

The worst part was that Raoul's mother had arrived while he was at his club and without her son present the Dowager Comtess had no qualms about chastising Christine. Her first attack was on her poor household management, focusing on how at least one spare room should always be kept up for house guests. The second was how she needed to keep a closer reign on her servants and their appearance; Christine saw nothing wrong with her servants behaviour or attitude, however the Dowager had taken great offense to a housemaid's bonnet being slightly askew and had openly reprimanded the girl in Christine's presence. The third was about the furnishings and the quality of the china, all which were apparently "too English". Her gut instinct had been to interceed and stamp her authority, reminding her mother-in-law that she was mistress of the house, but her current mental state made such behaviour unattainable. She was exhausted; partially due to the constant criticism and partially as a result of her constant consideration as to whether to meet with Erik

As Christine had listened to the older woman continue to complain about her inepitude as both a wife and Vicomtess Christine had excused herself to claiming she had left her hankerchief in her room. Knowing she didn't have much time before the vulture would send a maidto find her - and reprimand her for leaving a house guest alone - Christine hurriedly d her dressing table draw and took out Erik's letter and latest gifted composition. She scanned the contents to check the location of their proposed rendezvous; she would be damned if she spent another day alone in the house with that woman.

She was about to leave and return to her unwanted house guest when she saw a looked out across.the Park she was certa man she was certain she recognised walk away from her house. She opened the window and leaned forward in an attempt to get a better look, being careful not to tip her weight too far. There was something about the man she couldnt place; sje told tell from his attire he was likely to be an acquaintance of Raoul's, but he wasn't one she recalled meeting.

As she watched the man walk away she saw his cane slip causing him stumble forward and fall to his knees. The sudden movement had caused his hat to fall to the floor. Once he had retrieved the item he looked around anxiously to check if anyone had born witness to clumsiness, but satisfied he was alone he replaced his hat.

Little did Gilles André know, Christine de Chagny had not only seen him, but recognised him.


	26. XXVI: The British Museum

It was another grey day with a thick fog hanging over the city. Erik really disliked this aspect of staying in London; it was certainly one of the grimmest places he had lived. Every morning the smog caused by the rapid industrialisation would settle above the skyline and sometimes not dissipate until mid-morning. The problem had become so bad that in 1873 it made world-wide headlines because it took over four months to evaporate and resulted in over two hundred deaths. This incident made Erik wary of the fog-like substance and he had decided upon arrival to the city that if a simular problem were to occur he would leave. He made a mental note to contact an agent and arrange viewings for a few properties a reasonable train journey from the city; afterall, if he were to win Christine from her Vicomte he needed to be a viable option - a gentleman - and property ownership would add to that conglomeration.

In preparation for his possible lunch engagement with Christine Erik had set aside his normal all-black attire and instead dressed in the current London fashion. He had chosen to wear a woollen navy morning coat accompanied by a dark grey waistcoat, a snow white shirt and navy ascot tie to match his coat. He had chosen to forgo the top hat and narrow heeled shoes that gentleman seemed particularly fond of as he didn't need anything to add to his unnatural height, but he reluctantly grey and black pinstriped trousers that were designed to provide the illusion of height. As he had forgone the top hat he opted for a homburg because he believed it held a simular appearance, albeit smaller and less ostentatious, to his favoured fedora.

When Meg arrived in the hotel foyer Erik was happy she had more of an effort to appear fashionable than she had done the previous night. Her skirt was cream with a pattern of black vertical stripes inbetween small black diamonds, and uncharacteristically she was wearing a bustle. Erik had never seen Meg wear the item before, assuming she didn't like the restrictions such dresses caused her movement. Her blouse was burgandy with a ruffled collar and cuffs, with thin black lave around her neckline. Her chosen hat was black velvet with a burgandy floral trim, secured to her head in the currently favoured lopsided fashion. The only part of her outfit that looked out of place for a well-to-do lady was her hair; she had only pinned the front away from her face, leaving the rest to cascade down her back. Her lips were stained a light rouge and he noticed how she had applied powder to lighten her skin, he didn't like how woman preferred a pale complexion as it closely resembled a funeral mask. - he understood is was reflective of social standing; a pale complexion meant they were too delecate to have spent a prolonged time outside - but he had only even seen Meg with a heavily paled complexion when she had performed on stage.

When the concierge indicated that their cab was waiting and Erik offered Meg his arm and escorted her outside into the smoggy street. Although he would be reluctant to admit it, he was looking forward to their excursion to the British Museum.

Once their journey had began Erik noticed that Meg once again seemed despondent. The previous evening she had happily embraced him after she admitted his exclusion of jêtês and pointe work from his latest creation, although he knew that with time to reflect she would be reluctant to accept it.

He had always been happy with silence and his own thoughts, but he found Meg's silence uncomfortable. He wasn't entirely sure why it irked him, but he had become accustomed to her chattering and her presence. Becoming increasingly irritated he finally decided to break the silence - if he had upset her once again he would rather know than be subjected to the cold shoulder.

"Are you well?"

She looked up from her interlaced fingers, clearly surprised by the question, "I am. I am looking forward to our outing. We have barely spent anytime together since coming to London", she bit her lip as though considering whether or not to preceed with her train of thought, but whatever she was thinking never materlaisd into words.

Once again he was showing concern for her, yet she treated his feelings of concern as though they meant nothing. Erik believed that although he did not intend on marrying her, he did care for her. "I shan't enquire after your wellbeing again Marguerite, as it seems you don't consider me someone you can trust".

Meg narrowed her eyes in frustration. The man was truly insufferable; of course she trusted him, she just didn't feel like her current woe was worth complaining about.

"I apologise for offending the great Opera Ghost's sensibilities, as that was never my intention", she spoke with a smile - just in case he misunderstood her playful tone for something more serious but it was unneeded; Erik had become accustomed to her saracstic wit, "I suppose I am nervous. I meet the managers this afternoon and they haven't seen me dance, yet have given me the lead. They've done so based soley on your recommendation. What if I embarress you?"

Meg was an accomplished dancer, and she certainly should have more faith in her abilities - she had danced as prima ballerina in New York - but he suspected her fall had a bigger impact on her self esteem than he initially believed

"You won't embarrass me. You are an accomplished danver. You rival La Sorelli and even your mother. Your position is well earnt", not a single word that he had spoken was a lie. He had never been too focused on dance, but when she took the stage the world seemed to dissappear and there was only her. He had watched her dance on the boat and although she had fallen, every movement was perfection - or at least he thought so.

"That is kind, but they employed me on Raoul's bequest and then gave me the lead because of you. They have never seen me ance and that unnerves me"

"You have no reason to be unnerved". It was the only answer he could give that wasn't a lie, but neither did it divulge the entire truth.

"And for the record", she added, "I trust you with my life"

\--xxxx--

The British Museum was a grand affair, much like everything the British did to demonstrate their imperial strength.

Erik explained to Meg the architectural influences upon its design, explaining how it was an ode to the classical structures found in Italy and Greece. Upon entry they walked through the halls and rooms adorned with artifacts collected form across the globe, ranging from trinkets such as rings and necklaces, portraits and paintings, to the large marble foot of Apollo

One of the things Erik enjoyed most about their visit was the opportunity to impart his fairly extensive knowledge of different cultures and different artifcats to Meg. He was pleased to see her intellectual capabilities went beyond literature and that she enthusiastically listened to him describe how certain collections qwre acquired, with many left to the museum via probate, and others taken when the British had undertaken archeological work or when a country 'joined' the Empire.

It was when they approached the collection of Persian silks and artifacts that Erik drew quiet. They hadn't discussed what he had told her, and he had no intention to volunteer any further information, instead he tried to direct her away by taking her elbow gentley and guuding her in a different direction.

"Erik, I would like to see", she protested pulling her elbow from his touch. As she looked at him a sudden realisation crossed her face, "oh...oh Erik I am sorry. It must make you terribly uncomfortable to have to see those things".

Erik did not find Persian artifacts or culture annerving, far from it; he had several pieces of clothing of Persian origin, as well as various trinkets and smaller pieces of art work, but Meg didn't know that. All she knew was a pracied version of the things he had dne in the country, and he had left out the architectural work her had undertaken and his odd friendship woth Nadir, focusing on his bloodlust and execution. He didn't want her, or anyone for that fact, to see him as weak and unwilling to face certain aspects of his past.

"Not at all, I was thinking of you", his last words hung in the air as she grabbed his hand and pulled him into the room.

As the inspected the Persian collection a suffering silence engulfed the pair until the came across some robes very simular to the ones Erik processed and he commented that his were finer.

"Was it all terrible? I mean - I know it was terrible - but there must have been some positive aspects"

"There wefe some positive aspects" was all he was willing to say before he led her out of the room. He didnt want to dicuss Persia with her; she seemed to have overlooked what he had previously told her and their friendship appeared to be under repair, and he was still fearful that she would tell Christine of his past. There was only one living person who knew his story, and that had been shared slowly over years of friendship. If he shared his past with Meg she would trust him, and probably not interfere with Christine , but there was always the risk. There as also the other danger that sharing such inimate details of his life could lead to the formation of a stronger emotional bond between them beyond what already existed, and he was concerned that this would full his already carnal urging towards Meg.

Erik wad glad the smog had lifted while they had been inside the museum amd he saught a secluded bench that was shielded from the direct eyeline of other patrins by some over grown trees. He led Meg to the quiet spot and the pair sat down.

Meg noticed how Erik seemed to be trembling slightly as he placed his hands upon the top of his thighs in an attempt to steady them, before removing his hat and grasping it tightly before they finally stilled. Whatever he was thinking was causing him great distress, and she felt overwhelmingly guilty for having insisted they look at the Persian artifacts.

Meg placed her hand atop one of his, "I am sorry if my desire to see thise things has upset you". Immediately Erik tensed; he didn't understand her; she was being considerate of his feelings, and he was starting to believe her behaviour was a genuine personality trait rather than an act all women, except Christine, used to control men.

"You have not upset me. My life has not been easy", he paused briefly to consider whether he should continue, then with a heavy sigh he trusted her with his story. Erik told her of his mother, travels across Europe in a gypsy caravan and his time in Russia as a magician. He told her that his fondest memories were of Italy, and that was where he was apprenticed to a great architect. He let her know of the man's betrayal, but didn't share why. He ommitted the death of Javet, Luciana and Reza, as well as the influence of the khanum, but he told her of his travels and how he was able to embrace different cultures.

Once he finished his monologue he dared not look at his friend sitting beside him. The last time he had told her of his past it was because he wanted to remove her possible interference in his plans for Christine, but now he shared them because she was his friend. She was still ungrateful and irritating, but she willingly tolerated and cared for him - in the same way Nadir did - and he would need her support if he were to win Christine.

He only turned to face her when he felt small fingers interlace with his own and Meg's head rest on his sboulder.

They sat in silence for a while before either spoke. "Thank you for trusting me with your story", she said in a quiet tone.

"You said you trust me with your life, I should return that trust", his words caused Meg to smile and sigh, but his next shattered her growing hope about their relationship, "you are my friend afterall".

\--xxx--

**A/N - I feel compelled to say 'poor Meg', she accepts Erik for who he is, butnhe remains focused on Christine**

**.**


	27. XXVII: What true love means

**_A/N - thanks badpixie06 for your comment on here and AO3. It's nice to know people are reading this and can tolerate my typos and spelling errors (seriously, where is my spell checker?!?!)_**

\--xxx--

After Erik had bid Meg farewell, and pushed the nagging feeling he had forgotten something important relating to her out of his mind, it had once again started to rain. He cursed the English weather and his need to fetch his Inverness Cape alongside his violin as he had taken great care to dress in a way that would please Christine, and the Inverness Cape was not part of his carefully considered attire. He needed her to see him as a viable option, a man she could leave her husband for, a man who could provide her with things that she had become accustomed to.

\--xxx--

Erik had requested the Vicomtess de Chagny meet him in a restaurant he knew had a cabinet particulier. Although this decision was not based on the knowledge he would be engaged in an illicit rendevouz, he wouldn't back away from one of the opportunity presented itself

The room was dark and had not been furnished with aritical lighting, instead two gas lamps adorned the walls and several candles littered the shelves and sideboard. There was a small circular ash table with two chairs in one corner, and opposite was a large green chaise. Erik had ordered a white lace table cloth be placed upon the table and that china plates and silver cultury be laid out for their use. In the centre of the table was single red rose with a black ribbon tied around its stem and Christine's favourite dessert: a prinsesstårta. He personally found it to be far too sweet, and having witnessed various dental techniques used around the globe he tended to aviod food he believed caused damage.

Apparently, according to the hotel's concierge, it had not been an easy feet to employ a baker to make the bright green cake, with copious amounts of cream, icing and marzipan and the whole endeavour had cost him a tidy sum. Of course, he assumed the concierge had exaggerated his trial in order to recieve a greater financial reward, but Erik gave him credit for his believable story and rewarded him as such.

He had most given-up on Christine's attendance assuming she had not forgiven him his previous transgression of manipulation, and was starting to formulate a new plan to liberate her voice from the oppressive Vicomte when she entered the roon.

Christine was wearing a pale pink bodice with golden lace across her decolletage and to the nape of her neck. Her sleeves were puffed in the current fashionable style with the same golden lace at the base of the ruffle and on her cuffs. As was customery from a woman of her standing she wore a large bustle that prevented her tired skirt from dragging on the floor. The skirt itself was the same pale pink as her bodice with the addition of small embroided red roses and the hem trimmed with gold lace. Unlike Meg, she wore a large red hat with her hair carefully pinned back in a series braids. To Erik she was perfection: a perfect angel.

Erik had positioned himself between the door and the table in orderto block her view of his latest gift; he couldn't help that at times he needed to be theatrical. When he stepped aside to show Christine the primsesstårta she shrieked with glee. Her response was natural and inncocent, there was no acting that seemed characteritic of other women, and - most importantly - it was genuine. Erik was getting tired of dealing with what he percieved as false emotions women - one woman - dealt him. He was constantly finding himself replaying conversations and interactions in his mind ti identify qhen the falsehood would start, but he always seemed to struggle. At times he believed this was because the woman in question was acting genuinely, as he had believed earlierbthat day, while other times he put it down to her exceptional acting ability.

Shaking the thoughts of the woman from his mind he was overjoyed to see that he had been the cause of Christine's happiness, knowing that giving her a slither of pleasure was enough to give him satisfaction. He knew she wasn't happy with the Vicomte because he denied her music (she had written so in her letters) and therefore he could make her happier than her husband, and all he had to do was make her realise this.

"Oh Erik, where did you find someone to make a primsesstårta? I have been asking cook to make one, but she claims my instructions are not clear. And Raoul - well - he says he has searched every bakery in London to find someone to make one, but clearly that isn't true."

A smug feeling came over Erik as Christine openly criticised her perfect husband and accused him of lying. It was more evidence that he would make her happier than her boy.

"It wasn't hard. I asked and I recieved" he said nonchalantly. He wasn't going to tell her how much money the acquisition cost, nor how difficult the concierge had claimed the job to be; he wanted her to believe he went through the effort of finding a baker willing to make one. He wanted her to know he would do everything in his power to make her happy - something the Vicomte obviously wasn't doing.

Christine placed the folio she had been carrying on the table and picked up the rose. Her slight smile as she ran her fingers over the soft velvet of the petals wasn't missed by her former tutor.

"Please sit and eat with me Erik". To eat with her was something so very domestic. He had dreamed of sharing these moments with her; to dine and discuss their days,. to share thoughts and ideas. He wanted to share these trival domestic features with his wife.

"I wan't you to know: I have forgiven you, but I don't know if I'd be able to forgive you again"

Once again Erik felt taken aback by her compassion and genuinity . He had wronged her, yet she was willing to forgive him with ease. He thanked her before taking the break in her consumption of cake to fetch his violin and start to play. As the music swelled Christine realised she recognised the tune.

With shaking hands the former prima donna removed Erik's composition from the folio and she started to sing. She knew her voice was not as strong as it once was, and she knew her technique was lacking, but she had missed Erik's music tonthe point it felt like her soul ached. If anyone could help her regain her former glory, it would be Erik.

As her voice and his music entwined nothing else in the world mattered to Erik. He noticed her range was not as strong as it once was and her posture had become slack, but that was due to the Vicomte's refusal to let her sing, not his angel's own inepitude. As she sang neither took their eyes off one and another, and Erik was certain she could see into his broken soul - with every note she gave she fixed some of the damage caused by years of neglect and abuse, while he saw her kindness and innocence in hers. She was the day to his night, the light to his dark and heaven to his hell: they belonged together.

Once they had finished Erik dropped his arms to his side and then placed the violin onnthe chaise. He didn't want to.return it tonit's case for fear she would believe their time together was over, but he wanted to coach her, and show her his gratitude fornher singing. As he strode towards her he had every intention of correcting her posture and reminding her to sing from her diaphragm and not her chest; but the road to hell was built by good intentions. instinctively he took her hands in his and placed several light kisses upon her knuckles.

"Angels still weep when you sing"

"Only when I sing your work". Her response was enough to break him, propriety be damned he took her into his arms and kissed the crown of her head. They stood like this for several minutes. Erik could feel her heartbeat quicken as he held her, giving him hope she desired him as he did her. When she stepped aay from him the cold air caused by her absence made him shiver.

"I have missed you", Christine whisoered, as though she was sharing a dangerous secret

"And I you", he once again took her hands, "You will soar above the heavens once more with my tutution"

"Erik, you know I can't. You know you can't tutor me".

Ignoring her protest Erik began to outline which aspects of her technique needed work, how important it was to correct her poature, and then to see if she could still sing while she danced.

"Erik you aren't listening: you cannot tutor me and I cannot sing anymore. This has been wonderful, and I would very much like to see you again, but I don't want to mislead you"

He hadn't been listening, not fully, "I am here now. Of course you can sing"

"Erik - I have told you. Raoul and his mother won't let me."

"Yes, yes, I know - he doesn't make you happy. But I can", Erik spoke quickly. He was currently the happiest he had felt in a long time. He knew he could make her haooy because he would give her music and song. He wouldn't deny her anything.

"Erik, will you please listen to me? I am not happy because he and his mother deny me music, not because I don't love him"

Erik knew she felt a sense of duty and obligation towards the Vicomte, because she was a good and kind woman, but he knew that wasn't love. She may have believed that she loved her husband, but Erik knew otherwise. To love someone you want to make them happy, and the Vicomte was denying her things that make her happy and therefore he didn't love her. Whereas he would deny her nothing, because that was what true love entailed.

Erik knew what he had to do: he needed to remove the obstacles to Christine performing. He needed to remove the Vicomte and his mother.

\--xxx--

**_A/N - I apologise for any typos or spelling errors. I have read this several times and think I've caught them all. My laptop went kaput and so I am having to use my phone, and apparently the spell check on that isn't very good._**


	28. XXVIII: Meg's Meeting

**_A/N - Thanks Kimberly84 for the review. It's nice to know people are still reading this. When I get an idea I kinda have to run with it or I get a bit obsessive, hence the regular updates atm._**

**I have all the major parts of each chapter mapped out till the end - I may have to split chapters due to length, but I'm looking at around 35ish chapters rn.**

\--xxx--

Dust. There was dust everywhere. It didn't matter how often he had the staff clean, the dust seemed materialise within an hour. It was made worse by the awful English weather, the constant rain was not only taxing but it meant that whenever anyone entered the rainwater mixed with the ample amount of dust creating a watery mud. What he didn't understand aas how the dust seemed to travel from where the renovaovation work was happening - the auditorium - to the foyer

Gilles didn't pretend to know anything much about domestic chores. He had become an accountant's clerk's pprentice at age 9, meaning he spent barely anytime in his childhood home. He had married young, at 18, and his wife had seen to the domestic duties and eventually the direction of their house/chamber maid. When he was widowed at 34 following an outbreak of cholera,the maid had continued with the various chores his wife had assigned, adding to them whenever she felt necessary.

Wiping a fresh layer of dust off his spectacles he checked his pocket watch; forty minutes had past since he had left Richard and Raoul alone in the office and he really felt the need to return and take a more detailed look at their accounts to ensure there was enough money to fund, what he was certain would to be, an extragevagent and expensive production curtesy ofnthe Opera Ghost.

He was just about to leave the foyer when he noticed a rather striking young blonde woman in a burgandy outfit. It took him a moment to register who she was before he silently cursed Frimin for not informing him of her upcoming arrival. ut then, he also knew Fermin wanted to create as much tension and gossip as possible to ensure there would be a spectacal.that would sell seats, so he also suspected his omission had not occured by chance.

When Gilles approached Marguerite Giry the expression and sudden pallor of her face made it clear she did not expect to see him. He had assumed her fiancé, the Opera Ghost, would have told her of their identities, yet her appearance clearly indicated he had not.

"Monsieur André?", Meg asked looking confused but offering her hand. Not only did her appearence relfect her shock, the pitch of her voice was uncharacteristically high.ancer

"Madomsille Giry, it is a pleasure to see you again. You are looking well", he spoke while accepting her gesture in the standard gentlemanly manner.

"Thank you. English weather has done wonders for my health and complexion", iffering thinly veiled sacrasm in response.

"Ah, the English weather; delightful is it not?"

"I see you are a proper English gentleman discussing the weather".

Although their conversation was brief it was clear to Gilles that Meg Giry was both delightful and witty, with an air.of confidence that could only be found among performers. For the life of him, he couldn't understand why Destler would wish to pursue the Vicomtess when this woman wore his incredibly garish and flamboyant ring.

"It is a pleasure to see you Monsieur, but I have a.meeting with the managers, and I would hate their first impression of me to be of a flighty thing who is unable to keep time", he noticed her coy smile and couldn't help but respond,

"Allow me to escort you, for I know the managers well".

As the pair travered the hall and corridors of the theatre they spoke briefly about her tike in the USA and her accident. Meg didn't want to furnish him with too many details because she feared her contract would be withdrawn if the managers believed she couldn't dance effectively.

Ince they reached the.doorway she read the names upon the plaque and looked at her companion quizzically.

"Surely you guessed?" he asked in response to her stare. He didn't want to insult her intelligence, because if what Raoul had said about her relationship was true it was possible he may have a chance to court her himself.

"I had assumed. I just hoped you would have told me". He mentally cursed himself following her response, noting he will need to be more open with her in future. "And Raoul? I am assuming he knows about all of this?".

All he could do was nod.

\--xxx--

As André had led Meg through the theatre she had made small talk tonhide her growing anger at Erik. They had soent the entire morning together, yet he didn't take the opportunity to inform her of who their employers were. She came to two conclusions: one, his warped sense of humour thought it would be ammusing, or two, he was planning something. What she couldn't understand was why André and Fermin would work with Erik after the events at the Populaire; she had assumed they had been left in ruin.

It wasn't until they reached the manager's office that it dawned on her that Raoul must also be involved in whatever was going on. He had secured her a job, meaning he knew who the managers were.

She spoke briefly with André before entering the office, her tone sharper than she intended.

Sitting at a large oak desk was Richard Firmin and opposite him Raoul de Chagny. Upon seeing Meg the Vicomte spilt his whisky down his woollen trousers in surprise and Firmin had a rather devious looking grin across his face.

"Ah Madomsille Giry, soon to be Madame Destler, please take a seat", Firmin spoke with an exuberance that was not needed, "I take it your fiancé has shared his plans?"

Meg shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She had travelled across the ocean to take her new position and the first thing she is asked when she enters her employer's office is about Erik. During her time atbthe Populaire she had always felt overlooked; her mother refused to promote her for fear of accusations of nepotism, Christine had a "mysterious tutor" whose expertise had led to her accession to prima donna, and she had been courted by a member of the nobility, all the while she worked hard, practised and was overlooked by the patrons because she did not freely give her wares.

The worst thing was that Erik hadn't told her much about his plans. She knew she was to dance and help choreograph the routines, and she knew he didn't want her dancing en pointe or doing, but beyond that she knew nothing. Thinking about it pained her somewhat as event though she knew that their engagement wasn't 'real', regatdless of how many times Erik would throw "your my fiancée" at her when he didn't get his way, as her friend she would've exoected him tonshare his aspirations with her.

"I am to dance the lead" was all she could muster while subconsciously twisting the ring in her finger. It was once again a heavy symbol of nothing, doing nothing but preventing her from finding someone who wanted to be with her.

"And apparently Christine is to sing the lead" Raoul added looking at her qith pursed lips. Meg could see he was angry, and understandably so from her perspective, but she didn't feel like he needed to take his anger out on her.

"I wouldn't know. We don't discuss Christine",

"Of course not dear", Firmin said looking at her with fake sympathy, "we all fully understand why. It must be very hard for you to know your bethrothed loves the Vicomtess so passionately. Sorry, I meant 'loved' - just a slip of the tongue".

Meg smiled and made a mental note that Firmin was as slimey as she remembered. He may bit have been lecherous like Bouquet and some of the stagehands, but he certainly made her skin crawl when he would look at her. She knew his misplaced wording was not a 'slip of the tongue and was a strategically chosen word placement to try and incite her, but he under estimated her. Onstead she accepted his apology and outlined that she would be helping choreograph the routines. She tries to aviod the topic of Christine, as only Erik knew what his plans were and she didn't dare speculate on what he was upto, but Raoul was very persistent.

At the end of the Meeting Meg had left confused by Raoul's persistence over his wife's singing ; she couldn't understand why he repeated himself so frequently, surely everyone in the room understood the first time.

On her journey back to the hotel she felt her anger directed towards Erik return. She needed to know the plot of his revue and she wanted to know about his plans for Christine.


	29. XXIX: Some Truths Will Out

The exhilaration Christine felt as she walked home was the most alive she had felt in months. She could already feel an ache in her diaphragm after using the organ for the first time in months, but the feeling, althought uncomfortable, made her happy. Singing had revitalised her; it had made her feel whole. She knew she shouldn't have agreed to see Erik again for if she got caught, especially leaving an establishment with a cabinet peculiar, the assumption would be that they were engaged in an extramarital affair.

When Erik had taken her hands after her song had concluded it had taken all of her self control not to kiss him. Although his touch was cold, it had felt welcoming and secure. She loved Raoul, but her feelings for Erik were confusing; he had helped her reach new heights and showed her what an all consuming passionate love could do, but he also scared her. His love for her was frightening, his actions were terrifying and he had murdered two people - one was a lecherous scaremonger, and the other was merely an inconvenience, but it was not Erik's place to take a life. As much as she wanted to believe she did not have the authority to judge his actions, that was God's prerogative, she found it difficult to fully forgive. Then there was something about his music and how it made her feel. She couldn't quite understand why it made her heart soar, or how it sent tingles through her body. She had a fleeting thought that he may use magic, but after how he begged for her forgiveness once he admitted to having manipulated her, she couldn't quite accept he would try it again.

The closer she got to her home the slower he pace became, her feet heavy and her reluctance to return grew. She knew that the Doweger would seek her out and demand to know where she had been and whom she had been with, and Christine wasn't sure she had the energy to deal with the woman's unneeded demands. Her mind was full of Erik's music, his touch and her promise she would see him again.

Christine had been correct in her assumption and was greeted by a stern and rather displeased looking Doweger Comtess. At times she wondered how Raoul, a genuinely kind man whomwore his heart on his sleeve, could've grown up in a household managed by his mother. The strangeness of their relationship wasn't lost her her and she wondered whether the Doweger behaved differently when she wasn't around and before she had wed Raoul. One of Phillppe's main complaints was that his sisters' and mother's affections had made Raoul into a poodle-faker and he was far "too soft" for a man of his standing.

Christine's father had once told her to "kill it with kindness" when people were rude or abrasive, so that was how she tried to deal with Raoul's cantankerous mother. She would speak sweetly, offer kind gestures and smile. Sometimes she couldn't manage, sometimes the words and looks became too much, but after her time with Erik and now music filled her heart once again she found a new found resolve not to allow the woman to tire her.

The dress that had been laid out for dinner was, in Christine's opinion, quite horrible. She knew it had been selected by the Doweger, and it was one of Christine's older outfits. She had become accustomed to English fashion and had taken a dislike to the overly large bustles and hairpieces worn in France, but the piece she was required to wear was very 'French'. There was a mixture of pink and white lace that decorated the skirt and then filled out the bustle, the bodice was the same colour and the lace ran up to a lower neckline than was the customery in England. She had become fond of the higher necklines worn in Britain as they provided more modesty, and having spent years dressed in questionable ballet outfits with men gawking and leering at her, she found the modesty provided by English fashion liberating.

Dinner was the same as every other dinner she had with the Doweger present.There were snide remarks, disproving looks and the occasional demeaning comment made towards Raoul. Christine had hoped the events at The Ritz would've marked the dawn if a new relationship between Raoul and his mother, but it seemed they were pretending it never happened and she felt slightly dissapionted that the Raoul of that evening seemed to have gone. She loved him as he was; kind, gentle and caring, but the Raoul of that evening had been passionate and had provided her with something she had realised she wanted.

If she hadn't seen Erik earlier that day the Doweger's attitude would have caused her distress, but her mood had been lifted to such heights even her mother-in-law's tempremenet couldn't bring her down. After each remark thrown in her direction Christine would think about her earlier interactions and how Erik's music made her feel.

Raoul had sat quite placidly through dinner, only occasionally registering the irregular conversations occuring between his wife and and mother. It wasn't that he didn't care what his mother was saying, but his mind was elsewhere. Since his conversation with Gilles he had been considering telling Christine about his role in the whole affair surrounding Destler, and confronting her about her letters. The problem he had was that if he admitted his deciet and confronted her about hers, there was a possibly he would not like the outcome, and that thought scared him more than anything else he had ever experienced.

At the very least they would argue, and he hated it when they argued.

\--xxx--

Raoul had stood outside his mother's door to ensure she was quiet before visiting Christine. He didn't want her to bare witness to anything he was going to say to his wife, for he didn't want her interefence. If she got wind of Christine communicating to another man, who she wasn't related to, his mother would demand he divorce her on the grounds of infidelity or face a greater scandal. He found the whole idea hypocritical; men of his standing would keep lovers all the time - just like Phillppe and La Sorelli - so he hardly saw why a woman writing letters to a man would be considered so scandalous the only possible outcome would be divorce.

When Raoul entered Christine's room she looked slightly confused by his attire. Based upon her own appearance; hair down and in her nightdress, waiting exoectantly upon her bed, that she was expecting a visit of a conjugal nature, and he normally came to her room in his nightshirt.

"Would you like me to help you undress?" she asked with a coy smile.

For a moment he considered her request. Although she rarely refused him, her temprement of late had made the experience less enjoyable for him, but her current mood was certainly more appealing and she seemed more like the Christine he had married. She had unpinned his cravat and was about to start on his shirt buttons when he stilled her. Moving quickly he made his way tonher dresser and removed Erik's letters.

Raoul knew what he was about to do was manipulative. If he started by admitting his own deciet they would immediately argue, but if he accused her first and then admitted his own lies her own guilt would prevent her from doing anything too rash.

He was scared she loved Destler, in fact he suspected she did. When he had confided in Gilles his friend hadn't offered any reassurances, which fed his own fear that others believes she loved the Opera Ghost and would willingly leave him. Was he angry at his wofe for her behaviour? Yes, but most anger he felt was directed at himself and Destler. He had played an intrinsic role in reintroducing the man into their lives, and by doing so he had placed a strange temoation in front of his wife. Of he hadn't travelled to the USA, and if he hadn't engaged in a questionable buisness dealing with Gilles André and Richard Firmin, none of this would be occuring. He knew he couldn't blame her for his avtions, but he didn't think he could really blame her for her own: Destler was a manipulative man.

"It's...it's...it's not what you think Raoul", Christine cried seeing the letters clutched in her husband's hands "I promise Raoul. Read the leters. They are inncocent correspondence. They are about music". He had already read them, he knew they were about music and overall their contents seemed quite trival. Of they had been written by any other man he doubted he would have minded as much, but then again, if they had been written by any other man she wouldn't have kept them a secret. The fact they were kept a secret made him concerned she had more to hide. In an attempt to show his displeasure he pried her slender fingers that had gripped his shirt and scattered the letters across the floor. In an attempt to look more intimidating he took a deep breath, stood tall and took a step backwards.

"You shan't write to him again Christine", his tone was authoritive. "Tell me, how would you feel if I were to write secret correspondences to another woman? Especially one you knew had designs on me?"

By this point the Vicomtess was sitting on the floor and crying quietly, "I promise Raoul. It is about music, you know I miss music. There is nothing else going on - I promise", before adding feebly, "he...he...he is engaged to Meg". She would never betray Meg in that way, surely he would understand that.

Raoul had turned his back on his wife as she cried, unwanting to see her tear stained face. He could never cope with her crying, all he ever wanted to do was embrace her, wipe away her tears and keep her safe. Once again Destler had invaded their life and caused her tears, once again he would need to pick up the pieces and comfort her.

"Do you know of his plans? For you to sing the lead in his show?". He still didn't turn to face her. He feared she knew. He feared that if he faced her he would see her complicity. At best, if she knew she was being manipulated, at worse she was actively working against his wishes.

"No", she replied in a whisper. She didn't know Erik lanned.on her singing in his new production, but she wasn't surprised. She was surprised that Raoul knew.

Suddenly things began to fall into place; the impromptu trip to New York, his insistence they went to a specific show while there and that they would meet the comoposer, his deep desire to see the police, and finally Monsieur André visiting her house.

"You knew he was Meg's fiancé didnt you? You knew when you had them offer her a job. You knew the theatre who employed Meg also employed him." Seeing the panic in her husband's eyes she continued before she lost her nerve, "Raoul, what are you involved in?".

By now Raoul was pacing and he looked as thiugh he would either burst into tears or start shouting at any moment. He wasn't sure what to do: should he lie to her? Tell her the truth? A half truth?

He eventually decided that he needed her to understand his role in the whole sordid affair so that she didn't run off with Destler. Surely if she knew what he had done for her, what he planned to do for her, then she would willingly ignore that man.

"Yes I knew", he said sheepishly, "and it has all been a buisness venture, a money making scheme". He gestured for her to sit on the bed. Looking at the floor, unable to bare the possible looks of anger and dissapointment from his wife.

"I know you aren't happy. I know you long for things I cannot give you", he looked briefly at her - a stolen glance to check her expression. He knew he shouldnt, that he didn't want to, but he couldnt help it. He needed to see if there was any indication that he was wrong. He felt his hopes lift slightly when she opened her mouth to protest, but he continued before she spoke. "So I agreed a plan with the managers of the theatre."

"We knew who was and that he was in America, so you and I travelled there. I ensured we saw his performance and that we were to meet him. I would then go to the police with the aim was to drive him back to Europe so he could be approached about the role at the theatre".

Christine began to feel sick. Raoul had taken her to the USA to see Erik, believing she was scared of him and that the man was dangerous. "You knowingly put me in harms way. You didn't know he wouldn't kidnap me, or that he wouldn't try to kill you. How could you do it?" She was crying again; her Raoul, he ruined Raoul wouldn't do that, "Why? Why did you put us in danger?"

"I am desperate Lottë. You arent happy because you are denied music. You are denied music because of me and my family. If I didn't rely on them financially then you could sing". He took her hands and looked into her eyes, pleading for her to understand. "Please, don't you see? I've been trying to make money so you can sing. I've been trying to make you happy".

What he was saying made sense. Althiugh it was rash, and for lack of a better word stupid, it did make sense. But what she couldn't comprehend was why he had put them in danger. She missed music, but she never would want him to risk his life for her - not again.

As thiugh he had read her thoughts Raoul continued with his rationalisation of his behaviour, "He didn't hurt you. He wouldn't".

"But you didn't know that Raoul! How dare you!"

"Can't you see? He came here, he is working here. Meg is here. It is all turning out how it should. Richard said the scandal with Meg will draw in more patrons and sell more tickets because gossips worth its weight in gold, and once I have my share you can sing."

Christine rubbed her temples; it was alot of information to take in, but none of it explained why Monsieur André had come to her door. She suspected, but she needed him to tell her.

"Who are the managers? How do you know they will let me sing when I am able? They have never heard me", maybe it was unfair of her to play ignorant, but considering how her husband had manipulated her she didn't see why it would be considered much of a sin, "Also, how did they know who Erik really is? I'm confused"

"They have heard you. It is Gilles André and Richard Firmin. Richard wants you to sing now, but I have told him inequivalently that you won't. You are not to sing that man's songs Christine", Raoul spoke firmly asserting his authority as her husband, "I promise you can sing again once I am no longer dependant on the de Chagny Estate, but until then I beg you not to sing his music", then gripping her hands tightly and pleading once more, "If you do I fear I will lose you forever. Please don't communicate with him anymore".

"I promise", but it was a promise she knew she couldn't keep.

\--xxx--

**_A/N - this was finished two days ago, but with all the Phandom drama over the last two days I couldn't bring myself to post it. Sorry._**


	30. XXX: More truths will out

Although Meg had enjoyed her morning spent with Erik at the British Museum, the entire day had been emotionally draining. They had parted on positive terms, their friendship reaffirmed and there existed an agreement that they would dine together later that evening, but her feelings had once again been shifted following her meeting with André and Firmin.

After they had bid each other farewell she had felt privileged that Erik trusted her with his troubled of his past, and although he had been clear his feelings contained no romantic inclinations, she felt like an emotional connection had been established between them. Meg knew she could never fully understand or comprehend what it must have been like for Erik to travel the world as a human oddity, nor could she imagine how it must have felt for him to finally have some form of acceptance in Persia, even though it was a guise. She accepted that Erik's behaviour, his inter-personal skills and his volitle nature had been shaped by his experiences, amd as a consequence she felt like she knew Erik the man, rather than the Opera Ghost, Phantom or Angel of Doom.

Although her acceptance of Erik remained unwavering, her state of contentment ended when she discovered Erik knew the idnetify of her employers, yet her had failed to tell her, and that he planned to have Christine perform the lead role in his new production. Once again she felt like she was going to be cast aside and overshadowed by Christine. Foolishly, childishly even, she had hoped Erik's latest work would be an ode to her skills, something to show his appreciation for all she had sacrificed. But instead it would once again focus upon Christine, as everything always did. Christine was Erik's muse, and Meg was an inconvenience.

\--xxx--

Several hours had passed since Erik had returned from his meeting with Christine, and although he had been reluctant to watch her leave and return to her Vicomte, he was actually looking forward to spending the evening with Meg and starting to map out the choreography for the production.

Having heard Christine sing, and easily secured a promise of further meetings, he had already started to plan how to best to adjust his current score to meet her new needs and her forthcoming abilities. Her voice had matured since he had last heard her sing, and as a consequence it was more divine than he could ever have anticipated. He was smiling as he dressed for his next outing, eagerly awaiting Meg's expression when she saw how he was dressed and where he was taking her.

When Meg didn't appear at the agreed time he was initially concerned, but as the minutes passed he became more irritiated and short-tempered. He began to suspect she had made a gentleman friend while visiting the theatre, possibly that lercherous cad Fermin, and was currently being wined and dined in an attempt to seduce her. After having such thoughts his irritation grew to annoyance and he began to curse her fickle emotions and disrespect towards him.

Driven by his emotions Erik marched to Meg's suite and banged unceremoniously on her door. Several other guests gave him concerned glances and one gentleman threatened him with the police. Eventually the door opened for Erik to find a very confused and tired looking Meg Giry.

Erik felt a strange sense if satisfaction when he saw the look Meg's face. It was immediately clear that it had taken her a few moments to register who had been banging on her door due to his uncharacteristic attire. He no longer donned the fashionable clothing of an English gentleman, instead he wore a dark navy cheviot suit, off-white shirt, dark grey tie and a bowler hat. He certainly didn't like his current clothes, but they were perfect for the evening's plans.

Contrary to his appearance, Meg's current attire and dishevelled look added to his previous annoyance. It was clear she hadn't dressed for dinner and probably had no intention if meeting him; something he found rude and insulting. Of he hadn't needed her to accompany him he would've walked away from her at that moment, but as he needed someone whose talent he respected to choreograph his production, he needed her to accompany him tonight. There wasn't time for her to fix her hair and make-up, nor was there time to explain.

"Get changed. Wear something more inconspicious" he said waving his hand up and down indicating his displeasure with her dress.

"Go away Erik. I do not want to see you right now". Her response was not what he had been expecting, but he paid no heed. Instead he ignored her remark and pushed open the door and went directly to her room. He really didn't have time for whatever game she was trying to play, so it would be easiest if he were to select her outfit for her.

Choosing a dark green skirt and pale green blouse from her wardrobe he commanded "Wear these and change your hair" before tossing the items on her bed. "Wear you hair in a simular style to a maid's, or wear it down. Either way, you can't go out with it looking like that"

"I said I didnt want to see you".

Her repetition fanned his annoyance. He didn't understand why she was so infuriatiting. Not only had she missed their dinner appointment because she was off out with a man, she was now insulting him by implying he had done something wrong.

"Do you want to help me choreograph? If so, change. I shan't offer this opportunity again Marguerite"

"Don't you want to know why I am upset with you?" Meg asked tentatively as she collected the items of clothing thrown on her bed and made her way towards the changing screen.

"Not really". His reply wasn't entirely true, but he knew they didn't have time to pick apart whatever he was meant to have done to offend her sensibilities.

"Erik, why are you behaving like this?". Her voice was timid, and it unsettled him. He had made Meg shrink away from him before, he had heard her cry when she thought she was alone, but her current tone caused him more concern than he cared to admit.

Whatever she believed he had done was obviously inconsiderate. As always he rationalised this by reminding himself that he was not responsible for Meg's actions, he did not ask her to lie for him, and she was aware of what type of man he was. She was the orchestrator of her own destiny.

"We don't have time for this Marguerite. I was knocking on your door for longer than I care to mention. Take the opportunity to accompany me or dont - it's your choice - but if you don't then you shan't have the opportunity again".

\--xxx--

Meg felt incredibly uncomfortable after Erik had sent their cab away and told her they would walk the rest of the distance to the club. The night was colder than she had expected and her shawl was not keeping her warm. As per custom her arm was linked with Erik's as they hurried through the narrow streets of a part of London she had never visited. She dared not ask him why he was treating her as an inconvenience when he had asked her to accompany him, for his mood seemed more Phantomesque than usual.

Meg had tried to explain that she didn't intentionally miss their dinner arrangement and that she had fallen asleep from the day's exertions and been unaware of the tims, but that only seemed to annoy him more. He had mumbled something about knowing "the type of exertions she was engaged in" before returning to a stoic and unfeeling pose, leaving her feeling more.confused by his actions.

The wind was sharp, and as Erik led her through the street she felt as though itnl was passing through her, causing her to shiver. Seeing her discomfort Erik immediately removed his jacket and placed it over her shoulders to provide her with some comfort. Meg tried to pull it tighter, noticing how it carried his smell, before Erik took hold of her left hand and thumbed her engagement ring.

"Take that off", he hissed into her ear, "it isn't safe wearing something like that in this part of the city".

She wasn't entirely sure what he meant by "this part of the city" as it looked like most other parts she had been to, but she slipped off the ring and placed it in Erik's jacket pocket.

When Meg reached their destination the colour drained from her face.

"I cant go in there! It isn't respectable".

He chuckled at her protests, but easily led her inside to the cosy corner he had reserved. Meg shifted uncomfortably in her seat as the women came on the stage dressed in plumes of feathers. She had danced scantily clad before, but ballet was art, the way these women moved wasn't graceful, it was seductive. They danced upon the tables, performed overtly seductive movements only a few feet from the men, and one even began to undress on stage. As far as Meg was concerned there appeared to be no choreography, no technique, instead everything the women did was free movement.

Erik throughly enjoyed seeing Meg's expressions, although some reactions indicated she was more innocent than he had previously believed. He did enjoy her shock, but what he found most interesting was how Meg's eyeline focused on the performer's feet and lines, assessing how they moved, all while she tapped her fingers on the table in time to the music. He could tell she was judging them and evaluating their technique, reinforcing his belief that she was perfect for the role he had given her.

They didn't speak until they were in a cab heading back to the hotel. Meg still wore Erik's jacket and she felt a slight twinge of guilt when she remembered his slight frame. It wasn't that she couldn't see Erik was unusually skinny, she had just become accustomed to him that she no longer noticed how different his appearance was from the average man (except the mask of course). When she had offered to return it her had refused, as the gentleman she knew he was, and they continued to ride in silence until Erik finally asked her a question relating to his production.

It had taken Erik longer than customery to address why he had taken Meg to a burlesque caberet. He didn't find the women and their dance particularly arousing, but once he had began to imagine Meg in the role he had become uncomfortable and needed to try and regulate his thoughts. He didn't like that Meg still roused his carnal desires when he had been with Christine earlier that day, he simply couldn't understand why his body would so willingly betray his heart.

"Can you dance like those women?".

"Can I? Yes. Will I? No", she didn't look at him as she spoke, instead looking out the window into the all-encompassing bleakness of London at night, "You said I'd never dance in a Vaudville show. You also told me you didn't want me to dance en pointe for my own good, but now I see that was a lie. Another manipulatuon"

Erik wasn't sure what she meant by "another manipulation", but he certainly wasn't trying to manipulate her. The only person he believed knew her craft better than Meg was her mother, and there was no way he would ask Antionette to dance caberet.

"There is no manipulation Meg. I meant what I said, when I said it. But I will give the buffoons who have emoloyed us credit when it is due. They are correct that a fusion of revue and traditional entertainment will bring in a tidy sum and make headlines. Two things that are Good for careers"

"Erik, I don't want to dance like that. My mother would...well...have a heart attack. I've trained so hard to be a ballet dancer, and although I want to dance with jêtês and pointe work, I can accept that you wont include them. But this...this...it's caberet, it isnt art."

And there it was again. Her ignorance. It made Erik's blood boil. He couldn't comprehend how an intelligent and well-read woman like Meg could be so narrow minded when it came to different expressions of art.

"Enough" was all he could manage before turning away from her to look out of his respective window.

\--xxx--

Once they were back at the hotel they walked arm-in-arm, as any engaged couple would, as Erik escorted her to her room. Once at the door Meg finally found the courage to address the elephant in the room; he was already upset with her so asking him directly wouldn't damage their relationship any further.

"Do you want to know why I am upset with you?". She looked at him expectantly and could tell from the look in his eyes he wanted to know, even if he wouldn't admit it. "You didn't tell me about the managers"

"It didn't seem important. It doesn't effect your work".

"I looked foolish Erik. They assumed we don't talk. You have said that I need to act like your fiancée, but the same can be said for you"

"Then I shall.", he spoke with a huff simular to a child who had been chastised for not doing as it were told, "keep the coat for this evening Meg, and I shall see you in the morn". He then kissed her hand and hurried away.

Once back in her room she reached into Erik's pcket and removed her ring, also finding an envelope in the process. As soon as she saw the handwriting on the front the pieces fell into place; she now understood why Raoul had seen overly concerned about the possibility of Christine singing, and why Erik had willingly accompanied her to England even though it would have been deemed acceptable for him to remain in the USA. Erik and Christine had been corresponding, and although her letters didn't announce her undying love, the mere fact she had written to him gave him hope. But they shattered hers.

\--xxx--

Erik was relieved when he had finally left Meg's company. He had found it incredibly difficult to be around her with images of her dancing caberet and burlesque in his mind. Even when she was complaining about his inconsiderate nature outside her suite he had wanted to kiss her. He couldn't help but find her fire and passion alluring, combined with her kindness, compassion and beauty she was difficult to resist. He had accepted Meg was genuinely compassionate, that was why he had trusted her with knowledge of his past, but he didn't want to be lured into her web - not when he was so close to having Christine.

It had been thoughts of Christine and her letters that had prevented him from acting upon his lust. As he had walked away from Meg he had decided to read his angel's letters and then replace the images of Meg with Christine. It wasn't until he was back in his own suite he remembered he had left the letters in his jacket pocket. That damnable woman had caused him to make a mistake, and if she told the Vicomte it would ruin his carefully laid out plans.

\--xxx--

It was easy for Erik to pick the lock to Meg's room. He intended on rifling through her things, finding his letter and then leaving. He hoped that in the morning she wouldn't bring it up the letters or fear of embarrassment, and if she did press the issue he would insist that as both his and Christine's friend she should want them happy.

After searching the lounge area he knew he would need to go into her room. The door was ajar and when he entered the moonlight seeped through the door causing her to stir, so he quietly pushed it to to.ensure the room was once again cloaked in darkness.

Meg had fallen asleep in her chemise ontop of the coverlet. Meg nornally took great care in her skin care regime, so.Erik was slightly surprised she hadnt removed her make-up and that there were dark smuges around her eyes and down her cheeks. She had been crying.

Erik cursed the insufferable curosity of women before taking her shawl from the chair and placing over her - it wasnt much, but it was better than nothing. As he did so her eyes fluttered open and grew wide as she scambled backwards trying to create distance betqeen herself and the intruder.

"Calm yourself Marguerite. It is only I"

"What are you doing here? How dare you enter my room univited" she hissed, before respositioning herself into a kneeling position atop the bed.

Erik wasn't sure why he said it, but if asked he would have laid the blame at the unfulfilled sexual frustration from earlier in the evening. "Would you invite me Meg, my dear", he stepped towards her reaching out his hand for hers.

Meg reached out one hand before withdrawing it to consider her action. The moment their eyes met she offered him her hand and he pulled her upright so that their faces were mere inches apart.

Her hair was dishevelled from sleep and Erik used a single finger to placea stray strand behind her ear, before bending lower and repeating his question in a whisper. Taking his other hand he rested it on her hip, "well?"

Meg reached up, her hand shaking and ran her fingers along the side of his mask as she considered giving herself to him, making him realise that she loved him. Surely if she showed him that even though she knew his past, even though she knew all he had dine, she loved him, surely then he would understand. .. He would see she was virtuous and fully understand how much she cared for him

Meg ran her second hand down the front of his shirt stopping at the top of his trousers, before running it back up and she started to undo his shirt buttons. She had managed the first three before he grabbed her wrists. It was a battle of will and he was losing. If she looked down he knew she would see what she was doing to him. He assured himself it was a natural reaction, a beautiful woman had started to undress him, he had been to a burlesque show and seen his angel earlier thay day; his reaction was competely natural.

Erik let go of her wrists and gently pushed her shoulders so she fell backwards onto the bed, respositioning himself so that he was straddling her. Meg reached for his neck and pulled him closer, running her hands over the hair of his wig until she found the wire of his mask. He began to lace light kisses along her collar bone and on her decolletage, but he stopped the moment her hands move to the forbidden territory.

"It would be easier without it" she said quietly as she moved her unoccupied hand to his chest to restart on his shirt buttons.

Suddenly the memories of Christine removing his mask came flooding back, and pushed himself away from Meg. He didn't want a repeat of what had happened beneath the opera house in Paris; he didn't want Meg to recoil on fear and for his anger to turn to a violent rage. It didn't matter she had seen him unmasked before, she was not going to see him now.

In order to gain some resembelence of control he refocused his mind and energy in why he had come to her room. The purpose hadn't been to fufil his desires, it had been to fetch his most precious pocessions and the chit Meg Giry had once again led him astray.

"Where are my letters?"

Meg let out an exasperated grasp before sitting up and folding her arms defensively.

"Why do you obsess over her? She doesn't love you the way you want".

"Is that why you cried yourself to sleep after reading it Marguerite? Because she doesn't love me?, he knew the words were hurtful, but he didn't care, "where is my property?"

Resigned she took the letters from from under her pillow and with tears forming in her eyes and handed them to him. Then without speaking she got up off the bed and opened the box upon her dresser. Taking out her elaborate enagement ring she handed it him

"I'm done with this Erik", she spoke through tears, "I'm tired. You are now free to do what you wish. My heart can't take this anymore"


	31. XXXI: 3 months later

**_A/N - so I lied. 35 chapters won't be enough. I'm aiming for around 40. Sorry this is so long_**.

\--xxx--

3 months later...

The bouquet that Erik was studying consisted of a mixture of pink and white peonies . He had never been particularly fond of the flower himself, considering it far too common place to be given as a gift, but to the gentleman's credit the meaning of this particular bouquet did suit the recipient well. He had spent yesterday evening pondering who may have sent the gift, and had come to the conclusion there were two likely contenders: Gilles André and Simon Tannason, the first bassoon. He had also briefly considered the liklihood of the third trombone but decided the boy was far too focused on the second violinist to send a young woman flowers.

Although peonies grew wild in England, very rarely were they found in such exuberant colours in London. The thick morning smog would often leave particles on their delecate petals changing their colours from vivids pinks and bright white to greyish tones and reducing their lifespan significantly. From the colours of the arrangement Erik had deduced they were sourced from outside the city and had not been purchased from one of the many flower girls who roamed London's streets. Instead the gift giver was either someone who travelled into London from her outskirts or was wealthy enough to have employee fetch them. He wasn't sure where Tannason lived but knew his status would make a servant unlikely, whereas André lived in Middlesex and most likely had at least one servant in his employ.

It had become Erik's custom to search her room each evening, looking for indicators of her aquanitences and wellbeing. He told himself it was out of concern for his production and the need for his leading dancer to remain focused, but deep down he knew he was being driven by fear and jealousy. Over the time they had been aquanited he had developed a strong relationship with Meg, and although he had tried to push her away the woman's enduring compassion and kindness had meant she remained at his side regardless of how hurtful he had been, but three months prior she had abruptly ending their friendship due to his lust-filled advances.

He had replayed the final interactions of their sham enagement over in his mind too many times to count. At first he had felt anger, her words about Christine were a result of jealousy and envy, but the more he pondered the more he began to focus on her final words "my heart can't take this anymore" and he started to wonder if Meg Giry loved him. It was arrogant for him to assume such - he knew - but she there had been many small instances and overtures that could indicate her feelings for him went beyond that of a platontic nature.

Erik found the whole situation ludicrous; he was a monster and yet he apparently had the love of two beautiful women, neither of whom he was happy to see with another. The difference was that Christine was already married and he needed to overcome the issue of the Vicomte to enable her to be with him, a problem he intended to rectify shortly, whereas Meg had no ties except her dancing contract. Selfishly he didn't want Meg to find a male companion because as long she she held a torch for him she would continue to dance in ways that she didn't care for in order to please him; he would use her feelings to control her, but if she started courting an admirer it would be quite likely her compliance would wane.

Erik opened each of the drawers looking for further trinkets and evidence of the admirer's identity. As he rummaged through her belongings he found an ornate silver mirror that he recognised but couldn't place and a selection of ribbons. There was nothing new or particularly insightful.

His final investigation consisted of the music box placed neatly in pride of place in the centre if the desk; he didn't usually look in it as he feared the sound would alert any remaining cast and crew members to his presence, but his visit tonight had been delayed by a rather deprecatory meeting with the conductor about the third trombone.

When he opened the box there was a small ivory ballerina posed in a pirouette, with her position reminding him of his continued refusal to allow Meg to incorperate pointe work into the production and how disappointed she looked each time he refused. He didn't feel guilt about his refusal, afterall he was being driven by a desire to prevent her injuring herself, but he understood her dissapointment, as - like him - she was passionate about her art.

Erik carfully removed the layer which held the ballerina,mindful that he didn't want to damage the delicate figurine, and noticed an envelope with recognisable handwriting on the front. Intrigued as to why Nadir would see fit to write to her he almost opened the letter, but stopped when he noticed a small bundle of satin fabric at the bottom of the box. With his curiosity peaked he unfolded the fabric to find two gold earrings adorned with teardropped shaped amethysts and small diamonds. He knew Meg would never have brought something as elaborate as those for herself, and they certainly weren't styled in a way that would indicate an heirloom, leaving only one possible conclusion: they were a gift from an admirer.

As he turned the items over in his hand he tried to compile evidence that her admirer was having a negative effect on her performance. It was a difficult task; she wasn't perfect, but her knowledge and skill did surpass her mother and any errors she made were far and few between. Piqued he dropped the earrings back onto the fabric and returned them to their hiding place.

Checking the time he gave the room one last inspection to ensure everything was in its origional place and then made his way to his office to change. Tonight he would inform Meg that her new relationship would need to end: for the good of the production.

\--xxx--

For the past three months Erik had been meeting Christine twice a week in the same restaurant making use of their cabinet peculiar. The time they sepnt together was a mixture of lessons, companionship, and for Erik it was recon. It gave him a great sense of satisfaction when she had admitted she'd promised her husband she wouldn't write to him and that she wouldn't sing his music, yet she came to him twice weekly.

He had woven he songs from his new production into her 'lessons' in order to prepare her for the role and to enable.him to make any adjustments so that it better suited her voice. These changes were never well recieved by the orchestra or the soprano, a woman named Lucy, but he gave their complaints little notice. At times he would notice Meg watching him suspiciously and spending more time than appropriate studying changes that did not effect her. But as they rarely gave eachother the time of day, he didn't see her curiosity and suspicious nature as much of a threat.

As the weeks passed Erik became more aware of the encroaching deadline of the premiere, and the need to secure Christine's promise sing. Christine's singing and Meg's focus (by the removal of her suitor) qere the only way that the production would be a sweeping success, for although his orchestrations were exceptional, the orchestra themselves were only of an acceptable standard (bar the third trumbone).

"Has your mother-in-law vacated your home as of yet?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

Erik had taken to following Christine after their meetings - to ensure she arrived home safely - and noticed that the Doweger Comtess appeared to have taken up permanent residence in his angel's home.

"No. I don't know why she stays either. She hates me! She is constantly telling Raoul how wonderful Phillipe is, yet she remains in my home".

Erik agreed the situation was strange as the woman's continued presence vexed him. At first he had assumed Christine, who was prone to flights if fancy, was misunderstanding the elder woman's behaviour. Afterall, she had not be raised within high society and her husband was somewhat of a poodle-faker, so she may have mistaken the aloof nature of the upper-class for a personal slight, but ever her protector and defender Erik had investigated.

Having followed the Doweger for almost two months he had come to the conclusion that she was engaged in an illict affair. He hadn't focused on identifying her companion - yet - but she would change carriages on the outskirts of London before venturing back into the city. Of course, he hadn't shared this information with Christine; it was far more useful for him without her knowing.

"Because, although it pains me to say it, she enjoys hurting you", he spoke softly handing her a hankerchief as he saw tears had started to form in her eyes.

Over the three months they had been meeting Erik had been careful not to push Christine too fast. He understood her predicament and he wanted to show her that he was a viable option: a changed man, and that when she left the Vicomte she would have security with him. Due to this approach he tactfully would mention singing and her happiness, to slowly feed on her idea that she qas unbelievably unhappy without him and without music, and that it was the Vicomte and his mother's fault. His plan had faltered slightly qhen she had explained to him that Raoul was trying to secure the finances to allow her to sing, but it hadn't taken much cinvincing to lead her to believe her husband would never defy his mother.

"I know we agreed not to discuss it, but.Infeeo there is more you are not sharing with me. Do you wish to perform my music again?"

"Of course!" she had replied in a horrified tone, taking his violin from his hands and then holding his tightly. "Erik, your music is divine. Words cannot describe the emotions I feel when you play, when I sing, and when you sing".

"Then sing my music. You can have the lead in the production", but as soon as he had spoken she pulled away releasing his hands and turning her back to him, "Erik, you know I can't. I may have been able to convince Raoul to allow me to perform once - and I do mean once - if his mother weren't here - but he won't defy her...not again". Her naivety always made him smile, as he knew Raoul would not allow her to sing music written by his rival, no sane man would, but Christine- with all her goodness and innocence - believed it possible.

"Loving someone is.doing everything to please them", again he was trying to drip feed her the idea the Vicomte didn't care for her as much as he did.

Her response warmed his heart, as once again it reflected her naivety and innocence. "Do you believe that Love is giving someone everything they want? Love includes sacrifice". Love wasn't sacrifice, love was about surrendering.

\--xxx--

Following his rendevouz with Christine Erik caught a cab to Meg's flat. He had never a been inside, but he made it his buisness to try and now the dancer's comings and goings.

Her flat was dark when he entered and there was no evidence that suggested she had been home within the last few hours. He searched her flat looking for any indication that a gentleman had been present, and was relieved that wasn't the case. Always one for dramatics Erik positioned himself so that when the door opened he portrayed an onomous figure as soon as the electric lights were turned on.

When Meg arrived home she shrieked when she saw the black figure casually reclining across her settee, his legs outstretched and arms crossed. He was dessed in formal attire, still wearing his cloak and fedora. His black mask made him appear like a shadow - a phantom - of a man rather than a simple intruder.

"Calm yourself Margeriette, it is only I"

"Get out of my home", she spoke with defiance walking into another room. They had barely spoken since she returned his ring, so his sudden appearance had taken her even more by surprise.

"You are distracted" came a voice from behind her. She hadn't heard him move or enter the room, and she dared not turn around to face him. His current persona unnerved her, it reminded her too much of the Opera Ghost and not of Erik.

"There is a strange man in my home". Her response made him chuckle briefly dropping the Phantom persona and returning to being Erik.

"Your distraction is effecting your work"

"Hardly, I am not working now" she muttered. She knew he was close as she could feel his breath on the back of her neck.

Then, in no more than a whisper, and directly in her ear he said, "end whatever dalliance you are engaged in. I shan't have my work ruined by your loose morals".

Meg spun on her heels to slap him, and to tell him once and for all that her morals were not loose and that she will see whomever she wanted, but all she was left with was the empty air.


	32. XXXII: Even more truths were out

Spring had finally arrived. The smog would still linger each morning, but it took less time for the sun to burn through, and when it did the parks dotted in and around the city were beautiful.

Unlike his compatriots Richard Firmin didn't have an inherent dislike for the English weather; London itself was quite dreary on a rainy day or when the smog was thick, but it wasn't too dissimilar to other European capitals. Quite often Gilles would enter their office and attempt to discuss the weather, like the proper English gentleman he wad becoming, but Richard had little time for such trivalities. It wasn't like they didn't have rain, smog or sunshine in France - the frequency inwhich the English discussed it you'd believe the weather was the most interesting thing to occur everyday.

Once a week he would travel to Bloomsbury and be collected by a cab.The driver was always the same and obviously well paid, and the length of their ride would vary between ten and sixty minutes, depending on the nature of their conversation. The last few meetings had ended with terse words and veiled threats, soley due to the slow moving nature of their plan. What annoyed Richard the most was the Foweger Comtess' inability to see that she was the person hindering their progress.

Since the break in Destler's and Giry's engagement Gilles had become increasingly cagey about anything relating to the Victome de Chagny and his family. Richard considered Gilles apparent friendship with the Vicomte as an impediment to their scheme, especially since he had voiced his displeasure at his hope the Opera Ghost, who was now in their employ, would create a drama involving the Vicomtess.

The Doweger spoke as soon as Richard entered the carriage, "You assured me I would be rid of that woman by now"

"I assumed Destler would have acted by now, but he seems more focused on the orchestrations than anything else", he spoke with a roll of his eyes

"I paid you to rid me of that woman. But she still lingers around my son, sullying my good family name. You need to fix this Monsieur Firmin, otherwise I will ruin you".

\--xxx--

Firmin was not sure about what to do. It had been over three months since the Opera Ghost had accepted the commion and he had beem certain that he would have interferred in the Vicomtess de Chagny's life by now. When the Destler/Giry relationship ended Richard had assumed it was due to Destler's infatuation with the Vicomtess, or at least his desire to pursue her, but as weeks passed there seemed to be no movement on that matter. He needed for force Destler's hand.

\--xxx--

Chaos had engulfed the auditorium when Firmin announced that Lucy had left the company. He had decided that the easiest way to make the plan progress was to create the need for a new soprono. He assumed that Destler would act quickly and would use his powers of persuasion to encourage the Vicomtess to sing. Furthermore he concluded that the Vicomte, who was eager for the money he believed he was due, would eventually succumb and allow his wife to sing. Either way, the Doweger would get her wish and most likely claim her daughter-in-law had been having a long-term affair with Erik Destler and therefore the marriage could be annulled.

\--xxx--

Following Firmin's announcement Erik couldn't believe his luck. At his bequest there had been no understudy for Lucy's role as he had planned to encourage the qoman to step aside qhen he felt Christine was ready to accept her destiny by his side. With her resignation he wouldn't need to 'coax' - for a lack of a better word - the soprano from singing. He immediately began to plan how he would approach Christine to convince her; if needed he would result to hypnosis, but he really hoped their relationship had moved beyond the need for such tricks.

He announced that he was cancelling rehersals for the next two days to allow him time to find a replacement for Lucy. Many of the cast and orchestra began to leave, bidding him farewell and good luck, but Meg hung back looking at his anxiously between himself and Gilles André before signalling to the latter to leave.

"What are you planning on doing?" she asked Erik while fiddling with the ribbon on her sash as a way to try and calm her anxiety

"That is none of your concern", he said flatly

"It is. It is everyone's concern when it's our livelihoods on the line", her arms now folded defensively as she stepped closer to him.

"Go back to Monsieur André. I'm certain he will offer you a form of reassurance", he spoke while turning from her. He didn't want to see her face. His words had been intentionally sharp with multiple meanings and he knew his comment would likely rile her. He couldn't help that he didn't like the idea of Meg seeking reassurance from Gilles André, in fact the thought of him.l touching her made him nauseous.

Meg let out an exasperated sigh and threw her arms into the air in frustration, "What do you mean?"

"I am no fool Marguerite! I saw your exchange. Non-verbal ques are very telling, even for an exceptional actress such as yourself". Erik hadn't planned on confronting her about his suspicions, he had made it clear that she were to end whatever dalliance she was engaged in, but it seemed she had ignored his demand. Erik didn't like being disobeyed, and although Meg Giry was one of the three people he could accept some level of defiance from, seeking a suitor - especially being courted by one of the moron managers - was not something he would willingly overlook.

"I told you whatever dallance you are involved in needs to end"

"Why do you care?" she interrupted, "You barely talk to me. I am entitled to friends, and Gilles is a good friend. It isn't like I have many, and I need one right now"

"I don't. Nor do I have time for this Marguerite". As he walked away he turned to face her once again, "what I do is none of your concern. You made sure of that when you gave me back your ring".

\--xxx--

Meg hurried back to her dressing room to change and mull over Erik's words. She didn't understand him: he seemed jealous and resentful, but he was getting exactly what he wanted. She wasn't being an "ungreatful chit", there was no pretense of an enagement to prevent him from seeing whomever he wanted, and now Lucy had left the company he would be able to try and convince Christine to sing for him. Meg wasn't foolish, she knew Erik was meeting Christine and that he was rewriting aspects of the production to suit her, but what she didn't know was how complicit Christine was in the situation. But whatever the level of Christine's current involvementwith Erik and his plans for the production, Meg knew it was going to end badly for many people.

"You shouldn't fret about him. He doesn't care for anyone but himself", Gilles said as he leaned against her doorframe. Meg couldn't help but smile at how casual he looked; his face seemed lighter - the worry that was normally etched on his face had dissipated and he was holding his jacket over his arm.

"and Christine", she replied while wrapping her shawl around her and tucking it into her belt.

"But does he really care for her? Raoul has told me she misses music, and she knows if she bides her time she can perform again".

"He cares for her"

"She loves her husband"

"She does", Meg was certain Christine loved Raoul, but she suspected she also loved Erik, and she was certain Raoul wasn't foolish enough not to suspect the same.

"But she loves Destler also", Gilles said, as though reading her thoughts. "Surely if Destler loves her he would want her to be happy? I do think if Raoul weren't dependent on the de Chagny estate he would allow her to sing - "

"So do I. All he wants is for her to be safe and happy", Meg interceeded with a smile. She had never had anyone other than her mother put her happiness before their own. She knew Raoul would willingly sacrifice everything possible to make his wife happy, but what he didn't realise was Christine would be content without the elaborate dresses and jewellery her status gave her.

"- And although he would worry", the manager continued, "I believe he could be convinced to allow her to sing Destler's work. He would sacrifice his own peace of mind for her happiness. Would Destler do that?"

"I don't know Gilles", she felt like she was being pressed for information, "Erik and I barely speak. Please don't press me for information on him. I care and worry for him, so please don't test my loyalties".

"I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to pry - more thinking out loud", he said putting on his jacket and then offering her the crook of his arm to escort her from the building, "how is your mother?"

"Doing better. They travel next week, but I fear the Atlantic air may aggravate her lungs. Nadir said she has lost so much weight"

"Consumption is cruel, but if she has been allowed to travel they are satisfied with her health", Gilles tried to use a reassuring tone.

Meg knew he was right, they wouldn't allow someone with obvious signs of illness to board the ship, but she worried her mother would be turned away when they arrived in Liverpool. "Have you given your answer to Monsieur Khan?"

"Not yet. I know it is cruel to keep him waiting, but I wanted to speak with him in person".

Gilles led the way to the exit, opting to leave via the stage door rather than the main entrance. It had been noticed by the cast and crew that Gilles would often exit avioding his office and it was assumed the two managers were currently not on good terms. Meg had considered asking him, but she was uncertain of his views of women's involvement in buisness, and she didn't want to risk losing a good friend over a dispute between two men.


	33. XXXIII: Compliance

Christine watched the nannies, and the occasional nursery maid, in their prim uniforms pushing perambulators around the pond. Several older children were walking alongside their carers, some were occasionally running and two young boys, probably around 6 or 7, were using sticks to push toys boats through the water.

She assumed that many of the children she could see led fairly monotonous lives. She new it was customery for the upper class to only speak to thwir childreb ince a day, and that they were raised by nannies and nurse maids until the boys were old enough to attend boarding school and the girls continued their education with their governess or attended a finishing school.

As she sat and watched the children playing he feelings on inadequacy the Raoul's mother constantly reminded her of resurged. She wanted children, but she was reluctant to welcome Raoul to her bed with his mother lurking around their home, and she hardly felt like fullfilling her wifely duties when she was relentlessly reminded that she was a social inferior and a general failure as a wife.

Then there was Erik. Her feelings for her former tutor were still very complicated; he had been a father figure, mentor and friend. She had never considered him as anything more, never thought of him as a potential suitor untill he declared his love for her. His passion was intoxicating, his voice had a quality about it that entranced her, and he had a presence that gave him complete control of the room. She knew that Erik wasn't aware of the impact he could have on women, instead he focused on his appearance and belief that no one could love someone as ugly as he. What drew her to him was his music, especially his new composisitions which told the story of a woman fighting a fall from grace.

She sat humming one of Erik's songs as she watched the two boys playing by the pond imagining what her own children would look likem. She imagined two girls and a boy, all with blonde curls and blue eyes, dressed in lace dresses and a sailor suit. She would be reluctant to send her children away and rely on nannies and nurse maids, regardless of normal practice, as she wanted her children to feel the love and support she had recieved from her father before his death.

She had been so focused on her musings that she didn't notice the man dressed in a black suit sit at the other end of the bench

"You look enchanting as always", Erik said in a hushed tone while checking his pocket watch, "blue suits you"

Christine felt her cheeks flush. "Thank you", she mumbled. Raoul very rarely complimented her, even less so since his mother had invaded their home. "But, you know I can't be seen with you. If Raoul knew...", she said looking at her hands ut allowed the sentence to die before it left her mouth.

Erik didn't care for the Vicomte's feelings, but to verbally disregard them in her presence would likely cause offense. Instead he chose to ignore the comment and rose to his feet to leave.

"I need to see you as a matter of urgency. I have secured our normal location for 2 "o" clock. Don't be late".

\--xxx--

When Christine entered the room she was surprised. Erik had spent over an hour preparing the cabinet peculiar for Christine's arrival. He needed it to be oerfect; there were a dozen deep red roses tied with black ribbons on the table, a prinsesstårta, red wine and candles. The amber glow of the candles created a romantic air and the roses filled the room with the scent of an English garden. His aim was to seduce her into singing for him

She approached the table and picked up the roses to inhale their scent before taking a sip of the red wine. Erik had put a substantial amount of effort into preparing for this meeting, and she was slightly unnerved by what it could possibly mean.

"Erik, what is all of this?" she asked nervously.

Hearing the trepidation in her voice Erik encased her hands with his own, gripping them tightly, but didn't say a word. Instead he looked at her with pleading eyes.

Since they had rekindled their strange relationship she had not seen the desperate side of Erik. He had always seemed calm and collected, yet now he seemed desperate and unstable. She gave him a small smile to try and hide the panic that was slowly rising from within.

"I need you to sing for me", Erik finally spoke releasing her hands and stepping away to fetch his violin. It wasn't what she was expecting, and she gave a sigh of relief while flattening her skirts.

Her physological response to his actions didn't go unnoticed by Erik, and feeling slightly concerned that he may need to resort to plan b.

As she sung and he played, Erik could feel the tension building within him. The air seemed to crackle and felt thick and heavy. Erik noticed how Christine had created more physical distance between them, and he hoped it was because she felt the tension in the air as him, but he feared it was because she was daunted by what he may do.

"You are devine" he said slightly breathless, "perfect ".

"Only when you accompany me", she said quietly thumbing one of the roses from the table.

Erik had approached her silently, using one of the many skills hebhad learnt from his time as an assassin in Persia. He placed his hands on her shoulders, causing her to startle,

"I fear you misunderstand my intentions", he spoke as a gently guided her to turn and face him but noticing how uncomfortable she seemed he stepped away from her, "I need you to sing the lead in my production. Our lead did a midnight flit".

"I've told you: I can't. You ask too much of me"

Erik could feel his anger bubble. He couldn't understand why she would be ungrateful and disrespect him again. "I gave you my music. I gave you your voice. I don't ask too much. I ask one thing", he hissed

"No Erik, you don't ask one thing. You ask several. You ask me to lie to my husband to see you, and I do. You ask me sing your music against my husband's will, and I do. Now you ask me to sing in public and shame him and his mother. I can't"

It was the fop. It wouod always be the fop that got in his way. "So it is your boy and his mother who prevent you from fulfilling your destiny?"

"No Erik, it isn't. I am chosing not to perform. Yes, I want to sing your music. I want to perform it, but I won't shame Raoul. Not intentionally", she dared not look at him, "He's promised that when he doesn't need to rely on the family estate for money I can perform again. I can wait. When you love someone you make sacrifices for them".

Eril began to panic, he needed her to understand, "I love you"

"If you love me as much as you claim, then you wouldn't press the issue"

Erik's mind began to rapidly analyse her words: 'claim' implied she didn't believe him, 'I can wait' and 'when you love someone' made him think that she loves her husband more than she loves him. He began pacing, rapidly moving from one side of the room to the other, smoothibg the hair of his wig and flexing his fingers.

"Do you feel nothing for me?", he.spoke sharply but didn't give her enough time to answer before he started to sing. He dared not wait for her answer.

As Erik sang he led her to the day bed resting against the wall and guided her to sitting. He kissed the back of her hand before asking her again, "will you sing for me?"

She hummed a positive response before closing her eyes and letting his voice consume her. Erik fought the urge to kiss her exposed neck, but she was currently vulnerable and he had no intention of overstepping that particular boundary.

"Will you be my lead?"

"I can't" she whispered, and then made a sound simular to a sob.

"Shhhh", Erik hushed before he began to sing again. This time she rested her head against his shoulder and he stroked her soft silky hair. He hated that he had to result to this, but she wasn't being compliant.

\--xxx--

**_A/N - Thanks for reading. I'm not sure when the next update will be as I am going away this weekend (first trip and night away since March - I'm kinda nervous!), but I will try. _**


	34. XXXIV: Decent into madness

After leaving Christine Erik had returned home and used his piano as an emotional outlet. His music was a mixture of anger, fear and sadness. He hated that he had to result to hypnosis to get her to agree to sing for him. He didn't want to resort to manipulation, but her sense of duty towards her husband was becoming tiring. If he wanted the show to be a success she needed to sing, and he was certain the empty feeling within him would dissipate once he heard her voice entrance the audience once again.

Erik knew he was decending into madness when thoughts of 'dealing with' the Doweger Comtess flooded his mind. He sat in his arm chair running his punjab lasso through his hands contemplating the easiest way to dispose of her. It would be easy - he knew it - but Christine and the Vicomte would know it was him, and considering how adverse Christine was to murder it wouldn't be wise. If Nadir was here he would have talked him down from the parapet, but he was alone, and alone it was easy for him to lose himself.

As he sat in the chair losing minutes and hours to his rapid thinking and dangerous thoughts he realised there was one other person capable of grounding him: Marguerite Giry.

\--xxx--

Erik waited patiently outside of Meg's home. He could see from the silhouettes in the window she had comoany, and he knew who it wouod be. The woman was being foolish: he had sacrificed alot to protect her reputation and now she was spending time alone with André.

Once her guest had left Erik snuck into her home.

"I don't like you seeing him", upon entering her livingroom.

Meg stilled momentarily at his voice and let out an audiable sigh before continuing to tidy away the dirtied cups and teapot. She considered retorting, throwing his own words back at him, but his current disposition made her mindful of his feelings. He seemed vulnerable, distant and deep in thought.

Erik had his back to her and was trialing a finger along the spines of the books on the shelf. Withiut turning to face her he asked, "does Christine love me?" before briefly glancing over his shoulder than returning his attention to the bookshelves. "You said she doesn't love me as I want".

Meg sighed, she should have guessed this mood and impromptu visit was about Christine.

"I'm not the one you need to ask" she replied, leaving him alone while she went to the kitchen and started to busy herself with the washing-up. She felt uncomfortable when he mentioned Christine, it reminded him of who he once was and the things he had done, but also reinforced that any hopes she had of romance with the masked man were a futile endeavour.

She had half expected him to follow her to the kitchen, but instead her remained stoic at the bookshelf. His hands were laced behind his back and he stood straight, he had removed his jacket and she could see the tension in his shoulders. She almost assumed he was pensive, but his posture inplied her was resigned to whatever he had decided.

"I've missed our conversations. Without you or Nadir I fear my intellect may be waning".

Meg rolled her eyes and approached him slowly, placing her small hand upon his shoulder in an attempt to offer some comfort; he was being overly dramatic, she doubted he had any impact on his intellect.

When her hand made contact with his should Erik momentarily tensed before relaxing. He didn't turn to look at her, instead he hung his head foxing his gaze upon his shoes. "I miss your dancing"

Meg titled her head at the strangeness of his comment before stepping away and making her way to the violin he had placed on the settee. "You see me dancing almost every day", she replied, picking up the violin case in the process.

"But you don't dance for me" he spoke, almost absent mindedly.

"I think that you will find that I do, but if you want me to dance exclusively for you than I shall. After all, you have your volin".

When he turned to face her Erik was surpised that she held out the violin case, and he almost reluctantly removed it from her hands and placed it on the table.

He chose not to play one of his own compositions, instead opting for a piece from Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty. It took Meg a moment to remember the piece, but once her flow began she didn't stop. Without pointe shoes or preparation her feet hurt, but she continued as her mother had taught her. Ballet could be painful, but the grace and beauty it created was worth every drop of blood and sweat.

Once the music stopped she was breathless. She hadn't danced in that manner for almost half a year and although she had maintained her fitness, Erik's instance that she didn't dance en pointe or complete any jêtês had made the piece much more difficult than she remembered.

Erik had played the piece instinctively. She looked beautiful when she danced classical ballet, and the exhilaration she showed as she caught her breath made him feel a twinge of guilt; she was not dancing classical ballet because of him. Yes, Firmin's idea surpassed anything he would've expected from the moronic man: it wasn't art, but it was buisness.

"I don't like you seeing André" he repeated. He hadn't meant to say it, but he couldn't stop himself. She deserved someone who could provide her with a comfortable life that would allow her skills to flourish - yes - Gilles André was more interested in the artistic side of the theatre, but he was a money man, and money men were easily led astray and extorted. After all, he should know.

Meg furrowed her brow, "You've said. He is my friend. I'm entitled to have friends Erik"

"He wants more", he replied as he returned his violin to its case.

"Maybe".

Erik didnt like the sound of that, it implied she would consider a relationship with the man that consisted of more than friendship. "Am I not your friend? I fail to see why you would chose his friendship over mine".

"It isn't a case of one or another Erik. He is a kind man who, if I am honest, I may be able to come to love. But right now he is my friend. I need a friend, and I'm not certain you and I are".

Meg could tell from Erik's eyes he was surprised by his qords, he clearly believed they still remained friends after all that jad transpired between them. She didn't want to hurt him, he had suffered so much in his life and was finally receiving the credit and acclamation he deserved.

"Erik, we have spoken more words to each other in the last few days than we had done in months. I would like us to be friends, but you are always focused on your wants and needs, and I have them too".

"And André provides to your 'needs' does he?" His tone and voice dripped with dissaproval. Erik knew it wasn't his buisness, but he knew the desires of men and it hadn't been difficult to find out about Gilles André. He was a young widow who hadn't entertained female company since his wife's premature death, to have a beautiful and witty woman such as Meg in his company and not desire her would be unrealistic. He knew the man had designs on her.

"I have told you he is my friend" she said irritated by his continued ignorance of what she was saying.

He let out an annoyed huff,"And Christine, is she not your friend?"

"Christine has written a few times, but we can't meet each other due to her mother-in-law. It would be far too scandalous for her to spend time with a lowly dancer".

Once again the Doweger Vicomtess was the one causing problems: if she wasn't interferring in Christine's life than she could see Meg and Meg wouldn't need Gilles André as a friend.


	35. XXXV: In their best interest

**_A/N - sorry for taking longer to update than normal. I was at away this weekend and I didn't have time to write._**

**_This is kind of a filler chapter that sets up for the next._**

\--xxx--

Without a lead singer rehearsals sed mainly on orchestrations and dance. When needed a stagehand would read Lucy's part and the singing would be rehearsed without her contributions. Many members of the cast found it difficult to remain focused under such conditions, with a flyman reading for the female lead and the vocals being ignored, rumblings of discontent began to spread.

There were whispers among the cast that the production would close before it opened, and although Meg was never fully privvy to the cast and crew's observations she was aware that the consensus was thatit was unprofessional and tempting fate not to have an understudy for the lead. Having worked with Carlotta Guiducci for most of her life Meg was accustomed to such things, but judging by everyone else's reaction it seemed such a practice was highly unusual.

The main focus of the criticism was Erik. At first every member of the cast and orchestra were excited to work with the renowned Erik Destler, they toletated his perfectionism, scathing remarks and judgemental looks in return for being in orbit of his genius. Lucy's departure had changed that; their forbearance faltered now they believed their livelihoods were on the line, but Meg knew there would be only one reason why Erik hadn't allowed an understudy and based upon his current behaviour she understood that reason to be Christine.

Meg was on the way back to her dressingroom when she overheard small group of the cast and orchestra talking about going to the pub. As she passed Simon Tannason, the first bassoon, asked if she wanted to join them, but seeing the scathing looks passed between three of the chorus members Meg gracefully declined before continuing on her way, making sure she didn't increase the speed of her step.

"Why'd you invite her?" one of the female voices carried up the corridor, "you know what type of woman she is"

Although Meg didn't hear the rest she assumed they spoke of their belief that she slept her way to the top. It wouldn't have taken much digging to find out that she had been engaged to Oliver and subsequently to Erik, or about the scandal associated with their engagement. She knew they believed she used sex to manipulate men in positions of power, and like Erik many assumed that Gilles was (at best) courting her, or (at worse) bedding her. Either way, they believed she was undeserving of her role.

Such rumours and acaccusations were one ofn he several things her mother had been scared of; sleeping your way to the top may not have been nepotism but it was akin to it. And even though the rumours were not true, she was aware of the damage they could do to her future prospects. She wasn't looking forward to enlightening her mother about her current situation; she would be glad the engagement with Erik had ended, as she was concerned the pair were becoming too close, but she would certainly be angry about the rumours curculating among her colleagues.

When Meg entered her dressing room she didn't notice Erik causally reclining in the chair on the far side of the room, running one of her ribbons through his fingers. He liked to think light fingered pilfering was now above him, but.old habits died hard, and beyond Meg's engagement ring he didn't have any of her pocessions. Upon her entering the room he quickly wound the ribbon around his fingers and placed it into his breast pocket.

Meg was sitting at her dressing table removing her hair pins before Erik spoke. His suddenly announced presence caused her to startle and she accidently pushed one of the pins into her scalp.

"You danced well".

"Thank you", she said touching the stinging location on her scalp before inspecting the blood on her fingers

"You're bleeding", Erik said, moving quickly across the room. He took her wrist, turning over her hand to look at the sticky red liquid on her forefinger.

"It is nothing to worry about", she said dismissively while pulling her hand from his grasp and turning back to face her mirror, "but Erik, unless there is a pressing matter that requires my attention I must ask you to leave. I need to change. I am meeting some friends from the cast and orchestra"

Her response caused Erik to smirk. He had warned her not to try and manipulate him. "Dont lie to me Margeriette", Erik's tone was firm, like a school teacher reprimanding a pupil, "don't forget you told me that André and I are your only friends"

"Actually Erik", Meg spoke as she turned to face him, "I said that André was my friend"

"And I have told you that I don't like you seeing him". He was standing behind her and had put both his hands on her shoulders. He felt her muscles tense under his touch so he released his grasp.

"Why?".

Everytime he mentioned André she asked why he cared, and everytime he answered truthfully. He cared about the production and he had sacrificed too much to protect her virtue to allow her to throw it away on an affair with Gilles André. He was reluctant to admit the twinges of jealousy he felt when he saw the pair together, their casual friendship pairndning him of the one he once had with Meg, he also wouldn't admit the churning feeling in his stomach whenever he thought of Meg and André engaging inhmore intimate behaviour.

"I have told you before Margeriette. And, I do not like repeating myself"

"Neither do I. have already asked you to leave"

Erik ignored her comment, instead focusing on her continued preference for André's company over his own. It had not been long ago that the blonde ballerina chose his company over others, but now she was treating him in a simular vane to others. Now he felt bitter.

"Are you worried about the whisperings among the cast? Me being here while you change will fuel their belief that you earn your position on your back ", he said with his characteristic condescending sarcasm, "Why not add credence to them? I doubt Monsieur André would be adverse to sharing."

Her hand met the face of his mask with such force she knocked it askew and Erik let out an audiable gasp. "I don't know what game you are playing Erik, but I have had enough. How dare you speak to me like that and make such unfounded insinuations!" she had risen to her feet and pointed towards the exit, "leave".

"Are such comments unfounded? You do seem to be spending an insurmountable amount of time in André's company",

"How dare you!", Meg replied turning away from him in a desperate attempt to try and hide the tears she could feel burning behind her eyes. Within moments she felt Erik's arms encase her and she turned her body into his, resting her cheek on his chest while Erik gently patted her back while stroking her hair.

"shhhh", he hummed, "I'm sorry - my words were unkind". I wanted to add that he knew they were unfounded, but he feared they were not, "I am a cruel man Margueritte. Don't forget the things I am capable of".

Erik wasn't sure why he had spoken to Meg in such a way, but he knew the root cause of his current poor temprement was André. It would only take ten days, two weeks at most for the Doweger to be dealt with, and fmom that point onwards Meg would no longer need the company of Gilles André. It was in her best interest.

\--xxx--

The de Chagny drawing room held an ominous air, the seats had been organised in a semi circle, with the Doweger Comtess in the centre with Christine and Raoul either side. Raoul knew he should protest being summoned in his own home, after all he is master of the house, however he felt he had more pressing issues to deal with: primarily that the production currently didn't have a lead singer and without one he wouldn't be able to break free from the fiscal hold the de Chagny estate had over him.

Neither Raoul nor Christine knew why the Doweger had summoned them to the drawing room, nor did they know why two servants were standing in the far corners or why the staff in question had been told to "silently observe" what was going to occur.

The lack of refreshments in the room made Raoul feel uncomfortable. His mother, who idolised formality and propriety, would never sit in the drawing room with other adults and not have a pot of tea to hand. His mother had even brought her favourite tea service with her from France, so the current situation was very unusal.

"Shall I call for some tea?" he eventually asked in an attempt to ease the growing tension in the room.

"This shan't take long, so we won't be needing refreshments" his mother answered before the butler entered the room with the upper chamber maid, Lizzie, following.

The butler stepped aside allowing the maid to stand alone in front of the Doweger, giving a curtsey before waiting to be addressed. Both Raoul and Christine exchanged confused glances before the Doweger spoke

"You have been hiding and taking my things". It was a statement, not question, and an accusation that could result in the young woman on the street.

"N..n..no", the maid stammered, "I haven't. I wouldn't" she protested meekly, clearly intimidated by the eldest woman in the room. Raoul noticed how she was clutching the sides of her skirts tightly as a way to prevent her gesturing with her hands, and he felt a pang of pity. The woman was clearly nervous and was trying to control her emotions.

"Several of my oils have been taken, my creams and my perfumes have been moved around the room then replaced once I have searched everywhere. You are a theif and a liar who is trying to ammuse yourself by confusing me".

Her mother-in-law's accusations reminded Christine of the tricks Erik would play on the managers and Carlotta. She quickly glanced to Raoul to see if he had made a simular comparison, but her husband's eyes remained focused on his mother and he made no attempt to hide his displeasure at the events unfolding.

"Mother, why would she do that? Lizzie is a dilligent worker and neither Christine nor I have been dissatisfied with her work".

"Well, answer your master", the Doweger directed while gesturing to Raoul, which wasn't what Raoul had wanted. He relaised that his mother had the other servants in the room to witness Lizzie's interrogation so they could pass the warning onto the other staff members.

"I haven't stolen. I haven't moved your things. I promise", she replied before turning to Christine, "please madame, I promise"

"Raoul", Christine started. She wanted to speak to him alone to furnish him with her suspicions, but she was cut off by the Doweger dismissing the most senior de Chagny chamber maid and the woman collapsing to the floor in tears.

Christine felt overwhelmed by the scene unfolding in front of her when the maid fell to the floor begging her employers to reconsider while proclaiming her innocence. Their butler tried to haul her to her feet, but the woman's dead weight and the butler's age made it a difficult task. She could see him speaking into the woman's ear, likely reminding her of her place and asking her to compose herself, but Christine couldn't hear. She knew that Lizzie's dismissal, without a reference, would likely end with her on the street and possibly in a slum or whore house. She knew intervening would increase the tension between herself and her mother-in-law, but she couldn't be responsible - even partially- for someone being on the street.

"Lizzie, go to your room and someone will speak with you shortly", she instructed causing the young woman to stumble into a standing position and hurry out of the room while trying to calm her tears.

Once she had left and the other servants had been dismissed Christine braced herself for an onslaught, but instead of the Doweger taking charge and chastising Christine Raoul took the opportunity to remind his mother of her position in the household.

"Mother, you cannot dismiss the staff in my house. Lizzie will remain but will not service your room". His words caused his mother's face to pale, and Christine couldn't help but smile. She wanted to throw her arms around him once the elder woman had angrily stormed out the door. But she didn't have the chance, Raoul had slunk down into the large wing-back chair in the corner of the room and was rubbing his temples.

Seeing her husband's frustration Christine decanted a glass of whisky and handed it to him. She decided it was in his best interest that she didn't share her suspicions about Erik.


	36. XXXVI: Is it madness?

Erik followed his post-rehersals routine religiously; first he would check on Meg to monitor how much time she was spending with André, change into something more opaque, and then he would secrete himself in the small park opposite the de Chagny household.

He continued to see Christine and provide her with his songs, but didn't broach the subject of her role again. He knew the managers and the Vicomte would be feeling the pressure of an absentee lead, and that eventually this would make his plan run a bit smoother.

Erik's origional plan had been to torment the Doweger Comtess by moving her belongings and use ventriloquism to whisper in her ear at night - basically making her believe she was going mad. This was going well; it wasn't difficult to bribe the lowest servants to provide information on their employers; in fact the scullery maid and the porter had losened their tounges for much less than Erik was willing to pay. He learnt what had transpired between Doweger and the upper chamber maid, and of the Vicomte's intervention.

When the pair spoke of the the admiration they held for their employer Erik felt slightly nauseous; he couldnt comprehend why people liked de Chagny as much as they did. It was when they mentioned Christine's reaction he felt the growingly familiar pang of guilt. Apparently the Vicomtess had cried with thanks following her hushusb's actions, as she had feared what would have become of the woman had she been turned out onto the street.

Erik had never considered any by-products of his plan, his only focus had been his end goal. He didn't want to cause Christine any pain, that was the last thing he wanted, instead his end goal was very much the opposite: to make her happy. He knew she would be happy at his side, singing and performing his work. Afterall, she had admitted his music permintated her soul and she hadn't denied that her voice and his music were forever intertwined. He knew he needed to make it up for her.

Once the house was still Erik scaled the wall and made his way into Christine's room. Once again she had left the large sash window on the latch, making it easy for Erik to enter her room. He was pleased she hadnt heeded his warning, firstly because it made his enterence easier, but more importantly because it suggested that she wanted him to visit.

Erik knew that his angel would not appreciate the gift of a single red rose, not because she didn't like them, but because it would spark suspicions if the Vicomte saw it. So instead he left a small tin containing a slice of primsesstårta on her dressing table.

He glanced behind to check Christine was still sleeping and his hand hovered above the Vicomtess' jewellery box. He didn't have many of Christine's processions, and he wondered whether she would miss a small trinket. As he went to open it Meg's words reminding him that Erik Destler was not the same man as the Phantom came to his mind, and he briefly considered what she would say if she knew about his actions. These were quickly dismissed as he was currently the Phantom and not Erik Destler.

Seeing that his angel was still sleeping Erik's actions mirrored that of Roauls months earlier. He opened her dresser drawers and jewellery box inspecting the contents. When he found his letters neatly folded and tied with a red ribbon he felt his heart skip a beat; not only had she kept them, she was treating them as though they were something precious. He felt foolish for having questiomed her feelings towards him: this showed she loved him.

\--xxx--

Christine woke early as her curtains had become partially open the night, allowing the morning sun to stream through her window. After stretching and clearing the sleep from her eyes she sat and dug her bare toes into the soft rug at the side of her bed, reminding her of the same sensation she had felt having woken in Erik's domain. She tried not to think of Erik when she wasn't in his company, but with every passing day that the Doweger remained in her home and Raoul became more distant, she found her thoughts drifting to Erik much more often. She hadn't reconciled her feelings for her tutor, but his ever looming presence made their bond feel stronger.

It was still early and her lady's maid would still be a little while, so Christine decided she would start removing her ribbon curls. As soon as she looked towards her dresser he noticed Erik's gift. She smiled seeing its contents, but quickly placed it in one of her drawers. The last thing she needed was her maid to see it and for there to be gossip below the stairs.

The Vicomtess looked out of the window and stared at the street and park below. She had left the window open as an invite to her former tutor, hoping he still sought her outside of their secret lessons. It was forward, much more forward than she had ever been, but she justified her behaviour by knowing it wasn't an invite to engage in a tryst, rather more meaningful conversations. She scanned the street below and she was certain she saw a dark silhouettein the small communal park, lingering behind the trees. She strained her eyes in an attempt to see, but became distracted by the sound of the milkers horse bucklingbucklingss bottles shattering on the cobblestone road.

Loud voices arose as the milkman came and pulled his charge from the cart, almost forcing the boy to his knees in the process. The elder man shouted that the boy's wages would be docked to cover his losses and Christine felt sorry fornthe boy: he could hardly be held soley responsible for the horse's actions and without his wages the he would certainly face immediate hardship. Seeing the boy fall to his knees and plead with his employet Christine decided she would cover the costs of the spilt milk and smashed glass.

In the commotion Christine didn't notice her mother-in-law slip out of the servant's door and enter a waiting cab. But Erik did.

\--xxx--

Once dressed Christine took breakfast with Raoul while the servants informed them the Doweger dined in her room. They hadn't spoken about his mother's domineering nature attemot to dismiss a member of their staff since the incident, but the couple hadn't spoke of much of consequence lately.

Christine appreciated Raoul spending more time and home and less at his club, but she was starting to wonder if he resented her for it. He hadn't visited her room in days and her maternal longing seemed stronger of late. She wouldn't be surprised if he was starting to resent her; marrying her had caused insurmountable difficulties between himself and his family, and she was certainly starting to resent his inability to fully deal with his mother's behaviour. She appreciated it must have been hard for him, but he had told her he was trying to free himself from the de Chagny Estate, but his refusal to deal with his mother seemed to be hindering this rather than helping it.

Erik hadn't asked her to sing his lead since she rejected his initial request, but she knew it would solve their problems. From what little she knew of Raoul's buisness dealings with the managers at the theatre she understood that they all believed Erik's work would bring them substantial profits, but she also knew they currently had no female lead singer. Christine knew if she sang, and her name was written on the bill alongside Erik's and Meg's, the production would surely be a roaring success and Roaul's financial worries would be no more.

"Raoul - my dear - you seem worried and preoccupied of late" she eventually commented, fully suspecting the reason for his woes being money, his mother and the theatre, "is there anything I can do to lessen your woes?"

Her husband gave a brief smile efore shaking his head, "no Lotte, I shan't burden you with my worries"

"I am your wife. It is my duty to share your burdens"

Raoul scrunched and rubbed his eyes before letting out a deep sigh, "I am an awful person Lotte" he said as he began to cry, taking a napkin in his hand to wipe his tears as his blonde hair fell to.cover his eyes, "I am pleased mother seems to be losing her mind. It means phillipe will insist she returns to France and she'll leave us be"

"You think your mother is losing her mind?", she asked quickly, immediately releasing she should've reassured him that he was not a bad person, but he had continued speaking before she had time to rectify her mistake.

"How can I not? After the incident with the chamber maid she has gotten worse, she claims things are missing and then when I go to her room and they are exactly where she says they should be. She also hears spirits at night. She says the voices torment her, preventing her from sleeping"

To aviod answering Christine took a long sip of her lemon tea and looked at her husband with pitying eyes. She knew exactly who was responsible for her mother-in-law's decline into apparent madness, and now she needed to decide what she was going to do about it: if anything.

\--xxx--

Erik found it unusal that the Doweger Comtess would leave her son's home at an early hour, and even more so that she used a private cab rather than the de Chagny carriage.

Being an expert in stealtj, having been the Shah of Persia's favoured assassin , he knew it was important to look inconspicious and blend into one's surroundings. However, his current appearance was hardly that: all black clothing and a black mask, and he couldn't see any means to changed his appearance in enough time to persue the cab. The easiest method to track a cab was to comondere his own, but that required trusting another to do the deed well, which considering his current appearance and location he doubted many cab drivers would undertake something that seem unscrupulous. Instead Erik took a baker's safety bicycle that had been left against a railing, most likely while its owner delivered its wares and started following the cab at a conventional distance.

Although a strong individual, caused by his days scaling the opera house, Erik's fitness left much to be desired. He felt his legs and chest burning as he struggled for breath after a couple of miles, and he quickly found his mouth parched. He was not dressed to be riding a safety bicyle, with his cape billowing behind him, and his fedora being held place by the occasional grasp of his hand. He made a mental note to complete some equations to decipher whether his clothing was the primary cause of his difficulty, or whether it was his own fitness.

Erik was relieved when the cab stopped thus providing him with the opportunity to catch his breath. He was hunched over trying to increase his oxygen intake and settle the nausea caused by the unusal physical assertion, and almost missed the gentleman in the brown chequed suit and bowler hat who climbed into the Doweger's cab: Richard Firmin.

\--xxx--

When Richard Firmin entered the cab he was surprised by the sight in front of him.

The normally poised woman looked tied, dark shadows hung under her eyes, with the powder she used to cover them only exemplifying the crows feet and bags.

"Comtess, it is a pleasure as always" he spoke trying to sound confident. He knew why he had been summoned to a meeting, he knew she was displeased and he knew his time was running out.

The Doweger clenched her hands around the lace hankerchief she qas holding,

"Do you dislike money Monsieur Firmin?" she said without looking at him. It was one of the many things about the woman that annoyed him - she was the epitimony of what people had disliked about the French nobility: arrogant and detached from reality.

"No" he answered tentatively, knowing he was about to be threatened in some form or another.

"Then tell me - why is that woman still leaching off my family?"

He shifted in his seat. "I have tried, but your son is loyal to your family name. He won't allow her to sing as long as it displeases you"

"Then find another way!" she said as she turned her head sharply to face him once again. Her eyes were stern, but blood shot, and he was certain they resembled someone who was very tired. She looked like she had aged dramatically since the last time they had met and he wondered why she looked so fatigued. She hit the roof with a staff she had placed between herself and the cabs side, and a few moments later the cab driver opened the door.

Clutching his bowler Firmin climbed out and when he turned to bow and bid her farewell, the Doweger gave him one last warning,

"You have a week Monsieur Firmin".

\--xxx--

Having seen Firmin get into the Doweger's cab Erik's mind was reeling. He would need to investigate Firmin and his involvement with the Doweger Comtess, but he wasn't sure how he would find the time to do so. Since becoming a "respectable" member of society he was finding it increasingly difficult to go long periods without sleep and he was struggling to juggle his.time effectively.

He had to supervise the rehersals to prevent the incompetencies of the cast and crew from ruining his production, he needed keep and eye on Meg and her friendship with André, importantantly he had to taunt the Doweger and remain close to Christine. Now he needed to throw investigating Fermin into the mix. Then, on top of all of that Nadir and Antionette were expected to arrive in London at some point that day.

After he watched Firmin walk off into the distance and the cab leave the square Erik decided it was safe to make his way back to his own home. When he turned a corner he saw a small child attempting to sell heather to passers-by, which triggered a foggy memory from his time in the gypsy caravan. He knew exactly what notebook he would need to check, and when he had done so he would start collecting the necessary ingredients.


	37. XXXVII: An admission

Victoria station was the largest teminus that Meg had ever seen. She stood on the pavement opposite, just outside the pedestrian enterence and looked up at the imposing sight.

The building itself was of a simular size of the Garnier, with three arches that led to different areas of the station to ease travellers search for the correct platform: one towards the south of England and France, one towards the north and one to the west. Its visage reflected the symetrical appearence that the English seemed to favour, and above the green awnings that covered the enterences there were five additional stories, with an even number of windows and a large white faced clock taking pride of place in the centre at the highest point.

"You've seen far superior architecture. Why do you gaze at this with such awe?", Erik asked offering her his elbow.

Sliding her arm through his Meg responded thoughtfully, "not so much awe as respect. It isn't a beautiful building, but nor is it ugly. But it's impressive nonetheless"

"Have you seen inside?", he asked and she shook her head in response. Checking his pocket watch hentold her of how the British had by-laws specifically for the railways, and how they had their own powers of enforcement - something Meg found unbelievable, but accepted as another example of British idiosyncracies.

Being careful to navigate through the carriages and bustling people Erik guided Meg through one of the archways to the concourse. Upon seeing the interior tonthe station Meg stopped dead in her tracks and gazed up at the cieling; it was entirely made of glass secured with wrought iron frames. She felt Erik tug her to the side to allow over passengers to pass, but she was still struck by the amount of glass that made up the roof.

Slightly perplexed by his companion's facination Erik asked, "You seem quite taken by this train station. What are you thinking?"

"It must get terribly hot in here"

Erik let out a small chuckle before guiding her to the correct platform to meet her mother and Nadir.

\--xxx--

During the cab journey to Erik's home Meg and Antionette compared their journies across the Atlantic and from Liverpool with Nadir elaborating when he felt necessary. Erik didn't engage in the conversation, which went unnoticed by Antionette and Nadir; they were accustomed to his aloof behaviour and hadn't become accustomed to the man who Meg had grown to know over the months they had spent alone together in England. Occasionally Meg would side-eye her companion assuming that Christine was the cause of his pensive state, but resigned herself not to enquire as she didn't want to become further embriolled in his Christine obsession; it would just hurt her heart further.

Having Antionette and Nadir stay in his home was an inconvenience Erik reluctantly accepted. He had lived with Nadir in New York, and although he had become accustomed to his own company once again, he could tolerate the Persian's presence in his abode. He also assumed Antionette wouldn't be staying long, prefering the company of her daughter, and given Meg's wages and the money Antionette had from the sale of his jewels, she would be eager to move Meg iut of her flat.

At dinner they spoke of nothing of consequence, with both Meg and Erik avioding conversation relating to his newest production and the the rest of the cast.

Meg knew if she told her mother what her colleagues thought of her she would be deeply dissapointed, and probably push her towards Gilles for secure life and to dampen any scandelous talk. Erik on the otherhand was avoiding the conversation because the moment it was divulged they had no lead singer both Nadir and Antionette would assumed Erik was pursuing Christine once again, and although they wouldn't be incorrect he didn't want to have to counteract Nadir's inevitable obstruction of his plans.

Following dinner they all retired to the drawingroom, with Erik chosing to play a piece on the piano while Meg, Antionette and Nadir discussed the differences between the United State and England.

When Antionette excused herself Erik noticed Nadir guide Meg to the side and speak in hushed tones, causing him to recall the ketter he had seen in her dresser. Mentally cursing himself for not investigating further, he decided that he was juggling far to much to have Nadir interfere is either his or Meg's lives.

Erik didn't like secrets, unless they were his own, and he felt a sudden eagerness to speak to Meg alone and to question Nadir.

Once Meg left the room Erik immediately pounced on the unsuspecting Nadir, demanding he tell him why he was speaking with Meg in hush.

"If she hasn't told you, then I shan't", Nadir responded dismissively , pouring hinself a glass of port from the decanter on the table.

"You are a guest in my home you damnable man", Erik responded steppining closer to try and make himself look more intimidating, "you will not have secrets under my roof". But Nadir, who was used to Erik's behaviour merely took another sip of port before walking away.

"Don't walk away from me daroga", he said in a low tone, the one he used to threaten the managers and scare the chorus members at the Populaire.

"I'm sorry to interrupt", a female voice came from the door, "but mother is exhausted. Please may I have a chaperone to walk me home?"

Nadir was about to volunteer, but stopped when Erik gave him a scathing look that sent shivers down his spine.

\--xxx--

The night was silent and still as the blonde dancer and masked composer walked through the streets of London, their way illuminated by gas lamps. Even in spring the smog would settle over London at night, often preventing the light from the stars and moon lighting the coty below. It was.one of the many reasons why the illusive Jack the Ripper had managed to escape Abberline and continue his spree.

As they walked to the main road the cool spring air picked up a breeze and Erik noticed Meg pull her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. With a reluctant sigh, he removed his cape he placed it over her shoulders, being rewarded by a broad smile in thanks.

They walked for a short time more before Erik finally spoke. He knew Meg was notnthe easiest people to manipulate, so he opted for a more direct approach.

"Why is Nadir so keen on speaking to you alone?"

"Why are you?", Meg replied in frustration. She was tired of Erik's interest and interference in her life.

"You are my friend"

She rolled her eyes, "then you have your answer".

"Hardly", he scoffed in response. She had barely spoken with Nadir prior to their departure from New York, so he was certain that she couldn't have established a friendship with him under those circumstances.

Meg, annoyed by his dismissive response and continued poor attitude stopped and turned to face him. She waved her hands in exasperation,

"Erik, you confuse me. Why do you care what I do and who I see? And don't say it is because I am distracted or you care about the production, because neither warrant level of intereference you try to have in my life"

"You are my friend", his response was not enough to calm her.

"We've been through this. I don't think we are friends. I am not sure you even know what a friend is", he words were meant to be biting, but she had finally had enough.

"Don't speak to me like that Margueritte Giry. I may have had few fiends in my life, but there are a few people who I hold in high enough regard to consider them as such. I have done nothing to deserve your impertinence"

"Really? You think you have done nothing!", shaking her head in disbelief, "You truly are an arrogant man Erik Destler"

"I have never denied that. But I fail to see what I have specifically done to deserve your wrath".

Exhausted and emotionally drained, Meg allowed the flood gates to open.

"You use me Erik. You play with my emotions. You give me hope you have feelings for me, and then dash it them with one foul swoop. Then you build them up again", she shook her head and turned away, "I told you my heart can't take it - and I mean that - you have hurt me in many ways Erik".

Erik watched Meg walk away from him. She was a conundrum and an inconvenience, but he never wanted to hurt her, nor could he bare the thought of her absence from his life. It took very little effort to catch up with her before he grabbled her elbow forcing her to face him.

"There are few people in this world I would swear never to harm.You are one of them Meg Giry. Any pain I have caused you I regret", he paused before adding, "even if it was intintentional at the time"

As soon as he had spoken his last words, his face met the palm of Meg's hand. She had suspected, but had not wanted to believe, that Erik had intentionally caused her pain.

Adjusting his mask masonce again followed her, "if you were anyone else l, you would be dead for slapping me Margeriette" he said gesturing to his mask.

"Then why aren't I?" she span on her heels to face him once again, "why aren't I dead Erik? Why do you care if Gilles wants to court me? Why do you care what Nadir wants to say to me? Why did you insist on walking me home? Why?"

It was dark, and her face was barely visible.under the poorly illuminated gas lamps. His eyesight was far better than most, having spent years lurking in the dark passageways of the Opera House and honing his skills as an assassin. His eyes surveyed her face, paying particular attention to her eyes and mouth. The thought of Gilles André touching her in an intimate way made him both angry and nauseous. He knew Nadir wouldn't desire her, and even if he did he wouldn't act upon it, but the thought of.the pair having private conversations made him feel uncomfortable. As for walking her home, he wanted to keep her safe. She was invading his thoughts more and more often, and although he loved Christine beyond words, Meg had somehow wormed her way into his heart.

When he didnt reply she asked again, "Why Erik?". He could see the exhaustion on her face and the pleading in her eyes. She wanted this to be over,

"because I care for you" he finally admitted, "I care for you more than I would like to admit".

"And I care for you" she recreciprocated offering her hand with a small smile. Reluctantly Erik took her hand and allowed Meg to intertwine their fingers. It was a sensation he had never felt before, and although it was odd and not altogether comfortable, he found the gesture comforting.

They walked the rest of the way to her flat in an uncomfortable silence, neither sure what the other had admitted. As they approached her home Erik began to feel guilt seep into his bone: his actions and feelings were tantamount to a betrayal of Christine, and Christine was everything he could ever desire. His angel was perfect; beautiful, graceful, unspoilt, kind and compassionate, and a voice of an angel. She was also close to being his.

Meg felt a sense of closure. She found it slightly comforting to know Erik's feelings for her went beyond carnal desire, but she knew that 'caring' wasn't love, and that he loved Christine.

\--xxx--

Once Erik returned home he immediately began to mix the ingredients for his potion. He knew his feelings for Meg and Christine were becoming cinfused, and that was because there were far too many factors at play and he needed to reduce them forth-with.

He was so engrossed in his task, he absent-mindedly replied to Nadir when he enquired after the purpose of the potion.

"To deal with Richard Firmin. He has been meeting my angel's mother-in-law, and I want to know why".


	38. XXXVIII: Letters

Phillippe, the Comte de Chagny had only been to England twice; once he stayed at the Duke of Devonshire's estate located along the South coast, and the second he had visited London to personally resolve some issues when his father's personal holdings had been placed in probate. He had never intended to visit his brother and the woman he had married, leaving his mother to address that particular issue in her own way, but Raoul's letter regarding his mother's declining health had made the journey a necessity.

Phillippe had declined his younger brother's invitation to dinner on the evening of his arrival, instead opting to have a private meal in his hotel roon. Unlike his mother, he had chosen to stay in London's largest and most modern hotel: The Langham in Marylebone. State rooms, such as his own, had integrated water closests, electric lighting, and were accessible by one of the hydrolic lifts. The grand foyer was an opulent mixture of white and black marble, gold leaf bannisters and replicas of renowned artwork. His room was decorated in a simular vane, with dark oak furniture, baroque furnishings, heavy curtains and a wall with floor to ceiling windows.

After the butler cleared his plates and the servants were dismissed for the evening Phillippe removed Raoul's letter from his breast pocket and refreshed his memory of its contents. Raoul feared his mother was losing her sanity, but Phillippe was more inclined to believe she was suffering with the symptoms of old age and would be fine once she returned to her estate. The letter outlined the Doweger's belief that her personal items were moved or stolen, only for them to be in their usual place when Raoul searched. It was clear from the wording that Raoul disliked that hos mother accused the staff, but Phillippe dismissed this as his brother trying to assert his authority rather than his mother being unreasonable. The Comte wouldn't have been surprissurprithe cause of his mother's surposed illness was the whore of awoman his brother had married, as he was certain she would have learnt tricks from her mysterious lover.

The only aspect of the letter that did concern the Comte was that his mother was hearing voices of people she insisted were spirits. Phillippe knew that such events could be a sign of old age, but it could also be something much worse, and was certainly something he needed to discuss woth bith his mother and brother.

The luncheon Hall of The Langham was an oval shape, with floor the cieling windows at one end and cieling to floor glass doors at the other. Raoul thought it seemed more opulatent than The Ritz, his mother's preferred hotel, and dared not to think of the price Phillippe would be paying to stay in such a place.

Upon his arrival he was escorted to his brother's table and the normal formalities of dining took place. At first they talked about Phillippe's channel crossing and what he intended to do while in England, then they discussed politics and the French navy's current exploits. It wasn't until the dessert of lemon torte was served that the Doweger was finally mentioned.

"Honestly Phillippe, she isn't well. It is much worse than I described in my letter. She is barely sleeping and is neglecting her appearance", the youngest de Chagny son outlined as he took another sip of his all-too-sweet dessert wine, hoping his brother would understand his mother's dire need for intervention, "I wouldn't have written if I didn't fear for her mind",

"Are you sure this isn't your pretty little wife putting ideas in your head?", Phillippe replied showing no remorse for his disdainful words towards Christine, "the woman has such control over you that it is worrying. Why do you think mother has stayed so long? She is worried about you"

Ignoring his brother's comment about his mother Raoul continued his attempt to make his brother understand. "I assure. ou Phillippe, this isn't about Christine. Mother is losing her mind and needs to be in an asylum", he spoke with a raised voice that earnt him a few questioning glances from other guests, "come to the house and see. Then you will believe me".

\--xxx--

Christine sat waiting for Erik in the cabinet peculiar tapping her fingers impaitently on the table. It was unusal that she would be in their meeting place before him, and even more uncharacteristic for him to be late, causing her to feel both concern for his wellbeing and annoyence at his level of disrespect. Her main fear was that the longer she waited the more likely it would be that she would lose her nerve.

Normally Erik would make the room seem more appealing, placing a white lace trimmed cloth over the table and decorating the room with flowers to remove the musky smell. On the occasions she had arrived before him she had barely spent anytime in the room and hadn't noticed the slightly peeling wallpaper and water stained ceiling and cornices.

Erik always brought her gifts when they met, and she wondered whether he was late because he was busy purchasing her something special. His gesture of the cake in her room had been an unexpected treatand she felt like a naughty girl back in the ballet dormitories sneaking pieces qwen noone was looking. She hoped that whatever gift he bring would be consumable, because it was much easier to hide.

When Erik finally entered the room he was in a flustered state, clearly having rushed to their meeting. He removed his cape in one sweeping motion and Christine noticed signs of perspiration on his temple.

"You seem hot and bothered" she commented as she approached him, placing a comforting hand on his arm and offering him a smile, "can I help?"

Erik swallowed, if only the poor woman understood the double entendre she had just made. "I was engrossed in a task and time got away from me", he responded matter-of-factly stepping away as to not allow the risqué interpretation of what she had just said to get the better of him.

"I apologise for my tardiness. Please give me a moment to compose myself before we begin", he spoke as he made his way to sit on one of the aged dining chairs. His eyes scanned the table for the decanter of water that normally sat there, before remembering that he hadn't paid the manager to organise such amenities for this particular meeting.

Unable to quench his thirst, he closed his eyes and focused on steadying his breathing, allowing the quietness of the room and the scent of Christine's oils and perfume wash over him.

"Where is your violin?", the question interrupted his thoughts

Realising that he had left the instrument at home he quickly devisied a way to cover his second mistake of the day and save fave, "no accompaniment today - just voice".

She nodded and sat opposite him. Erik noticed she seemes to be regarding him with a different expression to normal, one that seemed more relaxed and much more coy. She was also wearing a corn blue dress simular to one he had gifted her, and that her hair was no longer tightly woven upon her crown, instead her curls cascaded down her back. As far as Erik was concerned Christine always looked like an angel, but her current appearance reminded him of the time they had spent alone before the blasted Vicomte had come into their lives and ruined everything.

Christine reached across the table and lightly ran her fingers over Erik's hand. He immediately startled at the unexpected contact, causing her to withdraw and hik to curse himself for his foolishness.

The Vicomtess silently stood and moved around the table to face him. Before Erik could fully register what was happening Christine had placed bith hands on either side if his face and was kissing him. His immediate reaction was shock, but when his senses returned he ran his hands through her thick curls until she broke the kiss.

"I will sing for you" she said in a tantalisingly seductive tone, "but on one condition".

"Anything" he breathed

"You must leave Raoul's mother alone"

\--xxx--

Raoul was relieved Christine wasn't home when he escorted Phillipe into their home. The butler offered the Vicomte a hand posted letter on a silver tray, but knowing it would be rude to open it now Raoul placed it on the sideboard to read later.

After seeing and speaking with his mother it became apparent to Phillippe that Raoul was not exaggerating, and his mother's grip on reality had certainly become tenuious. The two men decided it would be in their mother's best interest to return to France and seek medical help from their family physican, rather than risk being sent to an English asylum.

"You are aware it is the stress of your marriage that has done this?", Phillipe said in a tone full of resentment, "if you hadn't married that chorus girl..."

Raoul cut his brother off annoyed at his persistant criticism of Christine. He knew Phillippe wanted him to take Christineas a lover, the same way he had done La Sorelli, but Raoul'sdesire and feelings for his wife went far beyond carnal lust. "This is nothing to do with Christine. Christine is a kind and loving soul who has put up with mother's horrid behaviour without a bad word said. Mother is unwell. Be it her age or something else, but she is unwell, and it isn't Christine's fault"

Phillippe took a swig of whisky before he rang the bell for the butler. "She may not have done anything. But this is her fault. She got her vulturious claws into you and that drives your actions even now. You place that woman above your own family. Your marriage has placed undue stress upon mother, and even if it isn't he primary cause it has helped".

Raoul was about to protest, to remind Phillippe that Christinewas his family, but the butler entered the room and Phillippe ordered his carriage be prepared. "I am going to make preparations for mother to return to France with me" he said puttong on his gloves and hat, "but your role in her declining health, and the issue of your wife is far from over".

Following Phillippe's departure Raoul poured himself a large measure of whisky and slumped into his wing-backed chair. "Maybe I should just let her sing" he mumbled to himself before downing his drink. It certainly would resolve his problems: fiscal and otherwise.

Closing his eyes and willing sleep to come he remembered the letter from earlier. Confused about who would hand post a letter he opened it, not caring to find the letter opener. When he saw a familiar script his heart sank.

The Opera Ghost was requesting his presence at the theatre at 10pm.


	39. IXL: Ink

One of the things Meg liked about St. James's Park was the swans. Until moving to London she had only seen the birds sparingly, but now she was almost guaranteed to see them when she ventured into London's iconic parks.

Swans were often seen as graceful with the striking white feathers, large wingspan and long curved necks. As she watched one bob beneath the water searching for fish, surrounded by its grey cygnets, her mind drifted back to the ballet. Swans were iconic within the ballet community, with ballet dancers often attempting to.recrwte the birds smooth lines and graceful movements. Having watched them a while Meg was unsure why this was the case; yes, they were more essentially pleasing than the Mallards who.dominated the London ponds, or the pigeons who occupied most paved open spaces, but they weren't outstandingly graceful.

The primary cause of her visit to the park had been to give her some time away from her mother, Nadir, and Erik to think.

There were many things about London she disliked, but equally as many things she loved and was enjoying the independence the city had given her. She knew she was lucky; she had enough wealth to be considered middle-class and actresses and dancers in London's theatres were treated with more respect than they were in France. Since being in London she had never been mistaken for a women of 'loose-morals' or 'questionable virtue' by anyone other than Erik, and even then she wasn't entirely certain he believed some of the things he said. Like most things with the man, he used sexuality and propriety as a means of control and manipulation, and even though she believed he was a better man than he once was, she was certain Christine's presence and letters had reignited some of his more questionable attitrubutes.

Erik was a continuing conundrum. He had told her he cared for her on more than one occasion, and the previous night they had walked hand-in-hand, yet she knew he held an intense passion for Christine that she would never understand. As she watched the cob and pen care for their offspring she came to the conclusion that Erik's passion for her friend was entwinned with his music - he didn't believe one could truly exist without the other. Dance, on the otherhand, is an interpretation of music and can exist as long as any form of music does, and Erik didn't need dance to interpret his work. In Erik's mind Christine and music had become one and the same.

Meg knew that Erik's rekindled Christine obsession would end badly. More than one person's heart was going to be broken, and one of them was likely hers. Regardless of the imoending outcome.of current events Meg decided it was in her best interest to accept the offer Nadir had outlined to her, and once Erik's production closed she would move on and draw another line under a part of her life.

\--xxx--

On days without rehersals the theatre took on an eerie feel, and although Gilles doubted the Opera Ghost would decend from the rafters in a cape billowing plunge, he was still nervous when he traversed the halls.

It was customery for him to drop into the theatre on non-practice days to complete paperwork or survey the building renovations, but mow those were complete the lebgth of his stay would be vastly reduced. Quite often he would find Richard sitting at his desk doing goodness-knows-what, leaving him to wonder if the man had any existence outside of his buisness dealings, but today his compatriot's chair was empty.

Gilles lit the lamp on his desk and opened the folio to look at the accounts; if the production didn't open on time then they would be ruined, and he knew he would struggle to pay his various bills and could possibly end-up debters goal. He fully appreciated Richard's rationale behind working with the Opera Ghost, but it was certainly causing him more headaches than a normal production would.

One of the things he hated about his shared office was the lack of natural light. Without Richard's presence he had used one of the spare chairs to prop open the door to help some light from the corridor to enter the room. He hated relying on artifical lighting to do his work, finding it much more of a strain on his eyes than when sunlight was abundant.

Taking a break from his calculations to rub his eyes Gilles noticed Richard's ink pot on the floor, with ink having seeped into the rug. It was unlike his buisness partner to be so laissez-faire with furnishings and expensive commodities such as ink. Annoyed that the maid had either failed to clean the room this morning, or that Richard had knocked it on his departure and not seen fit to clear it up, he took his hankerchief from his pocket and went to dab the ink - but it was dry. Even more annoyed he left to fetch some water from the large jug on the hallway table - the one that was kept to refresh the cast and crew, hoping the useless maid hadn't emptied it.

Relieved to find it almost full he decided to bring the entire jug to the office.

Upon his return he noticed a a cream envelope sitting on his desk. After pouring some water onto the ink to allow it to soak he opened the letter with confused anticipation.

Erik Destler was requesting his presence at the theatre at 10pm.

\--xxx--

Gilles, anxious about why Destler would want an clandestine meeting with him decided that he would ask Meg if she had any idea about what the man would want.

It was a bright day and he ws relieved to have left the dark corridors of the theatre for the bright and surprisingly airy streets of London. The good weather made the walk to Meg's flat quite pleasurable, allowing him time to reflect upon the note and how he would approach the issue with Meg. She had been abundantly clear that she wasn't willing to discuss Destler with him, and although he suspected she knew more about his behaviour than she let on, she had claimed ignorance.

Meg's flat was located in a large building that contained several accommodations of a simular nature. He had visited her several times but had previously only been invited in under the cloak of darkness. Of.ciurse he understood her reluctance to have a man in her home, as an unmarried young woman entertaining a gentleman in broad daylight unchaperoned would ruin her reputation.

He waited for several minutes, almost resigning himself to wandering the streets and returning later, so he was relueved when she opened the large door.

"Gilles!", she spoke with slight surprise in her voice, reflective of her unexpected guest's appearence, what a pleasure to see you. Let me fetch my hat and we can go for a walk. I have something I need to tell you".

Upon her return Meg had secured a green satin hat to match her skirt and took André's elbow to start their walk. Like most of their strolls they ended-upat a park and found a bench set along the hedgerows rather than near the pond.

"I recieved a note from Erik Destler this morning", Gilles informed her, watching her facial expression closely, searching for any sign of familiarity, "in quite unusal curcumstances"

"Erik is an unusal person", her voice void of its normal familiarity. It annoyed her that André was bringing-up Erik when she had been clear she knows nothing of his endeavours or enterprises. She had asked him to try and discuss the composer with her, but he was ignoring her request.

"More than unusal", he said seemingly unaware of his companion's changed mood, before explaining what had happened earlier that morning.

Meg listened to her friend recount how he came into procession of Erik's note as a sinking feeling filled her stomach. She didn't know what Erik wanted, but she knew that a secret meeting after dark was not a way Erik would currently conduct buisness. He was considered a respectful gentleman and renowed composerer, so clandestine meetings certainly pointed to something more unsavory.

"I don't know what Erik is planning, but I think you should speak to the Vicomte. I suspect this is all to do with Christine"

Gilles nodded in acknowledgement, "then I shall go now", he said with a bow, "thank you dearest Meg". Then he hurried off in the direction of the de Chagny household to catch a cab.

Anyone who passed by would've noticed Meg's crestfallen expression, even though it was lost on her friend: not once had he enquired after her news.

\--xxx--

Christine had been surprised when the butler announced Monsieur Gilles André, and perturbed when her husband nstructed he be shown to the study rather than drawing room. She had protested, claiming it would be nice to become reacquainted with the Frenchman, but Raoul declined and dissapeared.

She thanked God for the small mercy that Phillippe was visiting London and had taken his mother out for the day to soften the blow that she qould be returning to France, and that her youngest son would - for the time being at least - remain married to an actress.

Christine didn't find out the purpose of Gilles André's visit untill later that evening when Meg Giry and the Persian knocked at her door.


	40. XL: Theatrics and Exhaustion

From his vantage point on the roof Erik saw the de Chagny carriage approaching.

He scanned the streets below for André, as unlike his compatriot, he preferred to travel by foot. Erik didn't know the man well, but from his observations he had discovered that he preferred walking to other modes of transportation, enjoyed the British game of cricket, detested American chewing tobacco, and was never tardy. Erik's thoughts immediately drifted to Nadir and Meg, knowing it was quite possible Nadir had shared what he had seen with the dancer and then she had passed this information onto her 'friend', or that her 'friend' had told her of his invitation and she warned him against coming. The thought of having to punish Meg for her betrayal made him feel uncomfortable, especially after his more recent admission, so he hoped the culprit was instead Nadir.

Once the de Chagny carriaged came to a stop outside ifnthe theatre Erik was pleased that both the Vicomte and Gilles André alighted. He should have known neither man would come alone and that they would seek solace in one and anothers company. He smiled to himself as he considered the childishness of their behaviour - neither man strong enough to face him on their own - believing in safety in numbers. Surely they hadn't forgotten who he was, or what he was capable of. He wondered if either man had brought a pistol, but dismissed the idea quickly knowing that André wouldn't know how to weald one, and the Vicomte probably being too useless.

He quickly surveyed the surrounding streets to check for signs of the police or privately hired thugs, before decending into the theatre to greet his guests.

\--xxx--

Christine had never ventured outside of her home at nignt alone before.

Being spring, the city hadn't yet been plunged into complete darkness and there was still a bustle of people around.

She had chosen to dress in her plainest clothes; a pale pink dress with burgandy trim with a black belt and hat, but she conscience a woman of her class was rarely seen alone at night, and if they were they would become the centre of society gossip. Knowing this she kept her eyes down as she walked, hoping the cab she was expecting would arrive soon and she wouldnt be left standing alone on the pavement.

The decision to accompany Meg and Nadir had been a spontaneous one driven by her concern for both her husband's and Erik's welfare. When the pair had explained their concerns about Erik's behaviour Christine felt her stomach sink; she had hoped that her promise to sing, and her kiss, would have been enough to end any outlandish plans that Erik had. When she had offered to accomoany them Meg had objected, stating she felt Christine's presence would only agreviate the situation further, but Nadir agreed believing she would have a calming influence on his friend.

When the cab did arrive Christine reluctantly climbed inside. She was greeted warmly by Nadir, but Meg's expression was cold and judgemental.

"You haven't dressed very inconspicuously", the ballet dancer commented gesturing to Christine's attire and eyeing the green cameo set in silver with garnet stones, "I'm surprised you weren't robbed".

Christine shifted uncomfortably in her seat, "this is the plainest outfit I own" she said trying to sound confident, but the comment reinforced the nervous feeling that had overcome her while waiting in the street alone.

Nadir shook his head and eyed Meg disaprovingly. "Pay her no mind madame", he said turning his head towards Christine , "Marguerite is worried about her friends and her emotions are driving her attitude". His tone was reassuring and accompanied by a gentle smile.

"I apologise", Meg added, without looking at the Vicomtess, instead she focused on the houses passing by the window. It wasn't Christine's fault that she didn't own plainer clothes, and when they reached their destination her appearance wouldn't matter, but she couldn't stop the twinge of jealousy she felt towards her old friend. Her animosity was further fueled by her disagreement with Nadir's logic; Erik was a different person compared to who he was in New York and Paris. It may have been true that in the past Christine could have had a calming influence on him, but Meg believed that the Vicomtess' presence would now have the opposite effect.

Ignoring the conversation occuring in the cab Meg closed her eyes and tried to organise her thoughts. She blamed Christine for Erik's erratic behaviour; thinking her comtinued correspondence had given him the illusion of hope, and that he clung to this desperately, risking everything he had gained since leaving Paris for a chance to be with Christine. Meg had known Christine for most of her life, and she knew that her childhood friend would never betray her marriage vows - even if she wanted to - for fear of eternal damnation. In fact, her friend was so devout she believed an angel was teaching her to sing for several years, which Meg had thought was a symptom of mental illness when she had first found out.

Meg was torn from her thoughts when the cab stopped beside the stage door entrance to the theatre, and the driver opened the door.

\--xxx--

The auditorium was shrouded in darkness, with the only illumination being the gas lamps that had remained in tonrelieve the pressure from the gas fittings. The ghost lights made Gilles nervous, not only did he see them as an unnecessary cost but the continued burning of gas was a fire hazard he'd rather not see. When they began renovations he had told Richard it would be wise to invest in electric lighting throughout the property for longevity, but his partner had refused to agree the additional expense and time required to complete such work.

Both men walked down the right-hand ailse straining their eyes in an attempt to locate Erik. They scanned the stage, the rafters, the seating and the parts of the circles and boxes that were in their eyelines, all to no avail.

"Another trick", Raoul muttered turning to leave, but as he did the ghost lights went out and they were plunged into complete darkness.

"Gilles", Raoul said in an attempt to locate his friend, and was relieved to see the spark of a match bringing his companion's face into view.

"Unneeded theatrics", Gilles muttered lighting a second match and his went out.

When he struck the match he was certain he caught the shape of a shadow in the corner of his eye, fuelling his desire to leave. "Come on Raoul, lets leave. I'll contact Destler in the morning and praise him for this marvellous escapade"

No sooner had he spoken the house lights came on and Raoul grabbed at his friend's arm forcing him to turn round.

In the centre of the stage tied to a chair was Richard Firmin.

\--xxx--

When Meg, Christine and Nadir entered the theatre there was a deathly silence.

"Is it always this dark?", Christine asked,

"Obviously not", Meg retorted, "it is night and the lights are off". Her tone earning a scornful look from Nadir as he lit a match so Meg could find the light switch, enabling Meg to guide them to the wings.

Seeing the silhouette of a man tied to a chair made Christine's heart sink.

\--xxx--

Seeing his buisness partner bound a chair scared Gilles, but his instincts kicked in and he started to make his way towards the stage, but was prevented from progressing by Raoul gripping his arm tightly and pulling his back.

"It's a trap. Remember, I've been subjected to his games before", he hissed

"Do you think he has killed him?", Gilles asked refusing to take his eyes off his colleague out of concern that if he did the Opera Ghost may commit an atrocious act .

Raoul shook his head in reply, then raised his voice to address the seemingly absent Erik. "What do you want?"

"To enlighten you both" came a disembodied voice, before the lights flickered and Erik was standing behind Firmin' bound form. He passed some smelling salts beneath Firmin's nose and the man stirred, his eyes filling with panic as he discovered he was bound.

"Tell them what you've been doing", Erik instructed, moving so his face was only a few inches from his captive.

"I have nothing to tell", Firmin mumbled, "youbare insane!"

"So I've been told", Erik laughed, "but you have a story to tell".

When Firmin didn't answer Erik decided to step up his plan. He removed a black cloth and bronze box from his pocket, laying it out carefully on the floor. Erik knew suspense would likely losen Firmin's tongue, so he then laid out the small vial of liquid he had made the previous night, a syringe, a rubber tube and a plain hankerchief.

Gilles and Raoul strained to see what was happening, slowly taking small steps closer in hope their approach wouldn't immediately be noticed as Erik was focused on his current task.

"Now - if you won't comply willingly, I shall have to resort to other methods", Erik spoke slowly oulling up Firmin's sleeve and tying the band around his arm, before carefully drawing the liquid into the syringe, "you know this works Monsieur" he said with a sadistic smile.

When the needle made contact with Firmin's arm a small yelp was heard from the wings, causing three sets of eyes to turn in the direction of Meg, Christine and Nadir.

\--xxx--

Christine didn't mean to make a sound, especially as Nadir had given clear instructions that they were to remain silent until he indicated otherwise. As soon the sound left her mouth she immediately regreted it, instantly covering her mouth and glancing at her companions with regret.

"Ah, it seems we have a larger audience", Erik commented bowing in the direction of the wings and turning back to his invited guests, " I have brought you here good messuiers to enlighten you on the business dealings of our dear friend Richard Firmin. I apologise for the theatrics, but I must admit I have a penchant for the elaborate".

As he spoke Raoul and Gilles made their way to the side of the stage to climb the steps allowing them to join the others. Erik didn't object to the change, having everyone on the same place actually made it easier.

"Our dear friend has been given a concoction that acts as a truth serum. He has refused to willingly share his expliots so I am giving him a helping hand", Erik chuckled.

Meg was unnverved by Erik's sudden change of behaviour. Their last encounter had been tender, as they had walked hand in hand, and now he was acting very much as the Phantom. "Erik", she said quietly starting to move towards him, only to be pulled back by Gilles and faced with Nadir's shaking head.

Erik didn't notice Meg's gesture, instead he focused on Christine clinging to her husband's arm, causing him to purse his lips in revulsion as the comforting gesture, "You see, Monsieur Firmin has tried to be a puppet master and cause you pain", before turning to his capitive, "tell them about your dealings with the Doweger Comtess de Chagny"

"You leave my mother alone!" Raoul shouted stepping forward, but being prevented from crossing the stage by Christine,

"You promised Erik. You promised if I sang you'd leave her be", Christine interjected, "you lied to me!" she cried

Erik felt dejected by the look in her eyes and by the lack fo trust she held in him. He had promised not to interfere with her mother-in-law and had kept true to his word, even though she was the orchestrator of Christine's unhappiness. "I have not lied and quite frankly my angel, I am dissapointed you think I would recind my word so quickly", then turning to his captive he repeated his last question.

"The Doweger Comtess offered me a buisness deal", he began, "she wanted mademoiselle Daae's "claws" out of her son. She asked me to reintroduce the Vicomtess to her lover, the Opera Ghost, and create evidence to enable her son to seek an annulment to his marriage".

"Lies!", Raoul cried, "my mother would never..." but the words fell away. He knew his mother was more than capable of such manipulation and duplicity. It would certainly explain why she had continued to stay in England and interfere in his life.

"We were never lovers", Christine added, not to the audience, but to her husband. Clutching his arm tighter causing him to whisper words of knowing reassurances.

"What was your plan?", Erik asked once again turning his attention to the bound man.

"I did as she asked, but you didn't engage in an affair. I even gave that girl Lucy money to vacate her role - but the Vicomtess never stepped in".

"But why did you send me to America? Why involve me in my mother's scheme?" Raoul asked confused, stepping closer to the two men in the centre of the stage. He was nervous and concerned that Destler could act out violently if provoked.

"Money. You needed it, and I want it. Your mother never specified how to fulfil her request and we could all be wealthy men if a scandal was afoot. Why should you have missed out because of your supposedly adulterous wife?"

"I have never!", Christine called, only to be silenced by the raised hand of her husband

"Thank you Monsieur Destler for your assistance in this matter", he said tenativly turning to face Erik's imposing and somewhat frenzied figure, "now lets release this scoundrel and I will deal with my mother".

Erik laughed, almost maniacally, "hardly" he scoffed before turning to face Christine, "your husband has decieved you, his family don't want you, they clip your wings preventing you from soaring. They don't love you, not as I do. I will give you everything my angel - my Christine".

Meg, still shielded by Gilles, felt tears burn her eyes as Erik made his declaration. Erik was a genius, but he failed to see what was in front of him: he loved the idea of Christine - to him she was the embodiment of his music - but she didn't know him. He would never tell Christine of his past, of the things he had done in Persia or of his childhood, for fear she would hate him. Her heart broke for him as he repeated his declaration of love to the terrified looking Christine.

"Erik, lets not repeat history", Nadir spoke clamly,

"This is not your concern Daroga. Untie the man and leave with all but my angel" Erik responded dismissively, not once taking his eyes off Christine.

Raoul began to cautiously make his way back to his wife, but was stilled by Erik's sudden glare and the sight of a punjab lasso hanging from his hand.

Seeing the weapon in Erik's hand was the final straw for Meg. She quickly glanced between Nadir and the Vicomte, trying to figure out their impromptu plan, before pushing past Gilles and approaching Erik with outstretched arms.

"Erik, put the lasso away", she said calmly, drawing his attention from Christine long enough for Gilles to grab the Vicomtess and pull her into the wings behind him.

"Erik, look at me" she said in her softest voice as she continued to approach. The entire audiotroun was entombed in a deathly silence, the atmosphere was heavy and tense, with every click of her boot across the stage made both Gilles and Christine physically flinch.

With Erik's attention now on Meg, Raoul and Nadir made light work of untying Firmin, but none one expected the portly manger to be nimble enough to take the rope used to bind him and throw it around Erik's neck, causing him to stumble backwards. Erik's hands immediately went to the make-shift noose and abruptly pulled it away, causing Firmin to crash face first into the floor.

The first thing Meg noticed was blood starting pool under the manager's face, and when he sat up it was clear the fall had broken his nose. She left tout a.sigh of relief realising that he hadn't cracked his skull, but this was short lived when within seconds a small horizontal red line was visible along Firmin's neck and trailed to Erik's hand.

"Erik, no!", she cried reaching for him and tightly gripping his free hand in both of hers.

"Erik, you are a better man than this. Be the Erik Destler I know. Be the renowed composer, the kind man who helped me when I was unwell, the man I visited the museum with, who danced with me and played for me. Who gave me gifts, who cares for my reputation and wellbeing. You are not this man Erik. Not anymore".

As she spoke Meg saw the lasso slacken, and Firmin scramble away with the help of Raoul and Nadir.

Meg believed the look in Erik's eyes to be terrifying, they seemed clouded and distant, but alight with a fire she had never seen. Meg refused to avert her gaze, instead she stood holding his hand searching his eyes for the Erik she knew. Nadir tried to catch her eye, to tell her they were leaving, but she dared not look, fearing that if she looked away the progress she had just made would be undone. She slowly moved one of her hands from his and tentatively ran the backs of her fingers along the side of his face, stepping closer.

As she approached she held out her arms and quietly whispered his name, before Erik collapsed into her, his weight causing them both to fall to their knees. They remained in the position for several minutes, with Meg stroking Erik's hair but not speaking a word, knowing he was crying silent tears of emotional exhaustion.

"She's left me again", Erik finally said pulling away from Meg's embrace and placing his head in his hands, "not matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, she doesn't realise that we are destined to be together"


	41. XLI: The Immediate Aftermath

**_A/N - thank you for the review/comment Kimberly84._****_This one took a little bit longer to write as it is a long chapter (in comparison to the others)._**

\--xxx--

When the carriage clock upon the mantle chimed one in the morning Simon, the de Chagny's second footman, was jerked from his sleep. The de Chagny butler, Samson, remained undisturbed; his head rested upon the table using the crook.of his arm as a pillow. Upon seeing the sight Simon wished some of the other staff could have seen the unusal sight of their superior breaking protocol - something they would quickly be disciplined for.

There were a few benefits of being employed by the Vicomte de Chagny, one being that both the master and mistress kept good time and were often in their respective bed chambers by ten. When Simon had first been employed by the de Chagny's there had been a heavy tension among the staff, with a clear division between those who had travelled with the couple from France and those who had been employed since they made their home in London. Many of the French staff were heavily critical of their mistress due to her origins and there where whispers that some were reporting her behaviour back to the Doweger Comtess. But this had all changed the day that the Doweger had tried to dismiss one of the chambermaids after accusing her stealing and hiding her belongings. It was well known among staff that a dismissal without a reference, especially dismissal from the nobility, would likely end in ruin - probably the workhouse or a less then reputable profession. It had been for the decisive actions of the Vicomte and Vicomtess thay had festered a new found respect from among the staff.

As and as the Doweger's health began to decline and her behaviour become more erratic an increasing number of the staff had began to become concerned about the impact her behaviour was having on the mistress' wellbeing, especially as she was spending an increasing amount of time outside of the home. The snide remarks that had once been a source of ammusement for some of the staff had become increasingly uncomfortable and many began to pity Christine and resent her husband's inability to control his mother's behaviour.

It was unsual for the de Chagny's to be home late, and when the bell indicating their return rang Simon gently shook his superior into a waking state and both men made their way to hall.

Both men were surprised to see both their employers accompanied by Mr. Abdré, another middleclass gentleman who.was rambling loudly about ghosts and revenge, and a well dressed gentleman from the east. standing behind the four men looking pale-faced and distant was the Vicomtess.

The Vicomte de Chagny waved his hand dismissaly towards his butler and footman, and bith him and Mr André guided the middleclass gentleman into the drawingroom, while the other man followed a few paces behind. None seemed to pay any atte tion to the woman who remained in the door way clearly lost on her own thoughts.

Samson was reluctant to interrupt whatever she was currently processing, but he had been unaware of absence and he hadn't directed a maid to remain awake waiting for her return."I am sorry Madame, I didn't know you had accompanied the Vicomte, I will wake one of the maids for you".

With a slight shake of her head Christine turned and smiled, "no - don't do that" she said in a light tone, "I will be fine. Please - both retire for the night. My husband and our guests require no further assistance".

Christine watched the two men leave in the direction of the servant's stairs, with her butler stopping briefly to look behind and seek further confirmation that they were allowed to leave, but seemed satisfied once she gave him an acknowledging nod.

When Christine finally entered the drawingroom it seemed that all of the men had forgotten her presence, making it easy for her to slip quietly in and sit in a chair on the far side of the room.

She in silence as she observed her husband and his three companions argue.over who best to deal with Erik's behaviour; the Persian and Raoul were admirer that it would be of greater detriment to all involved if the police were involved, whereas Richard Firmin wanted him punished. Christine failed to understand why none of the men had realised that they were all guilty of breaking or bending the law in one way or another, therefore contacting the police would benefit no one.

"Maybe I don't fully understand", she interrupted, "but I assumed that both Messuiers André and Firmin are tk benefit financially if Erik's production were to go ahead, therefore you would suffer financially if it did not? I know it would benefit my husband and I."

All eyes were on Christine as she spoke, with Gilles and Raoul nodding in agreement.

"Yes - but he tried to kill me!", Firmin retorted stepping towards Christine while waving his arms erratically,

"But he didn't", she said calmly. She didn't want to downplay Erik's behaviour; it had been truly terrifying and had far too many parallels with the events that occured in Paris, but she felt there was a more pressing issue that needed to be discussed. "Now, Monsiour Firmin, I have agreed to sing in the production being performed in your theatre. It should bring you a healthy return, but I will withdraw my services if you do anything that will cause Erik pain or difficulty".

The condition of her performance shocked everyone in the room, with Raoul preparing to object but chosing not to once he realised Christine was trying to resolve the impasse.

"Now, gentleman, I have much to discuss with my husband and it is late"

"Of course Madame", Nadir responded, fully understanding her meaning, "I thank you for your hospitality and shall take my leave". Which prompted both Gilles and Firmin to do the same.

After their late-night guests had left Raoul immediately tried to embrace his wife, but she pushed him away and increased the physical distance between them. He had once again protected her, but as soon as they returned home he showed a complete lack of concern for her welfare.

"Don't you dare touch me" she said in a low hiss. Although Raoul had continually tried to remind their guests to be quiet for fear of waking his mother as he would have to explain the late-night impromtu buisness meeting, Christine didn't want the woman to wake because she wished to speak with her husband alone.

"Did you know about your mother?" she demanded, keeping her eyes fixed.on his searching for any evidence of deciet

"Of course not" he said, "I promise Lotte. I didn't know. Do you honestly believe she would be welcome in our home if I knew?"

"I don't know why that woman is welcome here anyway", she muttered under her breath before speaking directly to him once again, "and what are you going to do about it?"

Raoul stood dumbfounded by his wife's question, as though he hadn't been expecting it, which was something that made her blood boil.

"I have had enough Raoul! Your mother has been vile towards me, and now we know she has paid someone to try and destroy us, but you stand there and do nothing", she spoke in a raised voice but still mindful of her sleeping mother-in-law directly above their current location.

"Things aren't that easy Lotte", he replied in an exasperated tone, "and she is going back to France with Phillipe anyway".

"Do you honestly think that is enough?" she spat before leaving the room in anger and retiring to her room.

While Christine lay in her bed she replayed he events of earlier thay night and the occurrence s t the Opera House. Staring absent mindedly at her ceiling she realised that Erik's behaviour all formed a pattern. It was about control, and when he didn't have control he acted both irrationally and erratically.

Reflecting on these events made her realise she wanted to understand why Erik behaved the way he did. And to do that she needed to speak to him

\--xxx--

When Meg and Erik finally emerged from the theatre the city smog had once again settled and was preventing the moonlight from reaching the streets below. The only light was provided by the sparsely spaced street lamps, with even the taverns and inns having closed their doors for the night. Meg didn't like traversing the streets at night, fully aware of the types of people who lurked in alleyways waiting to pounce in unsuspecring passers-by. In normal circumstances she would have linked her arm with Erik's, allowing his proximity to ease her hyper-vigilent mind, but his current posture and body language made her doubt whether such closeness would be welcomed.

Erik, who normally walked at his full height with an air of nobility, was downtrodden and hunched. Dressed as he was, in smart evening wear with a black cape and fedora, his form looked more menacing slightly hunched and focused the floor. Meg hated seeing the man she had come to care for broken into a thousand pieces; she didn't share his intellect, but understood that it must have been confusing for a man who processed such genius not to be able to comprehend why his plan had apparently failed (as she didn't know what is plan had actually been) and why Christine didn't love him the way he wanted.

The couple walked in silence, with Erik guiding the way and avioding any of the narrow passageways that would have made their journey shorter. Meg was glad he aviod the alleys and twittens, clearly sharing her concern. Under normal circumstances Erik would have paid no heed, knowing he could easily unhand and incapacitate anyone who dared approached them with criminal motives, but in his current state he didn't have the energy or will to try.

They had been walking for almost an hour before the silence was broken when the approached the square where Erik lived. The closer they had become Meg had noticed Erik's pace had slowed, his normally light feet becoming heavy reflecting his reluctantance to return.

"I can't go in there", he said, stopping at the corner of the street and looking absently at the light escaping through the curtains of the large bay window. "If the police aren't waiting for me, your mother and Nadir will be".

"I understand", Meg replied. If the police were present then Erik would face prison and torment, and she couldn't bare the thought of him being caged once again, and if it were only her mother and Nador he would likely face the Spanish Inquistion and be heavily reprimanded for his behaviour. In his current state she was certain he was not upto a verbal duel, and she understood the impact that would have on his already fragile self-perception. Understing his predicament Meg gently took his hand and guided him to face another direction.

"Then come and stay at mine".

It took another forty minutes of walking in silence to reach Meg's flat, and when they did she reminded him of the need to be silent as they ascended the stairs. As with most reputable dwellings for single ladies there were strict rules about who was allowed to visit the occupants, and having a gentleman enter her flat gone two in the morning would certainly end her tenancy. She spoke in a hushed tone as they approached, as though she was fearful that her landlady had such acute hearing she could hear her from from over 500ft away.

Erik had found her worry concerning; surely she knew he would never allow her to be cast out into the street? Had his behaviour towards her made her believe otherwise? Furthermore, if they were to be caught it would be due to her lack of stealth and not his.

On the two occasions Erik had been into Meg's home he had paid no mind to her decor or belongings, instead focusing soley on his purpose. But with Meg having busied herself making tea he now had the opportunity to survey the dancer's home and processions. The walls were covered in what he considered a tastless barouque yellow and cream pattern which reminded Erik of the colour of churned butter, the furniture was a mis-matched mixture of mahogany and oak , with the only saving grace being the heavy dark green curtains. He doubted the decor and furnishings were to her taste, more likely left over from a previous tenant and were included in her rent, but it perturbed him that she wasn't living in the luxory she deserved and was entitled to. Until that moment he hadn't spared a passing thought for how his friend had been living, and even when he visited he hadn't noticed her lifestyle was probably not what she had become accustomed to in New York.

With his adrenaline returning to a normal level Erik started to feel the burning sensation of the now raw skin under his mask. From years of experience he knew it was best to remove his mask if he were to cry as the trapped salt and moisture aggrevated his skin causing extensive irritation. But earlier that evening he hadn't removed his mask, not for fear of scaring Meg, but because everything seemed so futile.

Everything was nugatory at the moment and he no longer cared whether Meg saw his unmasked face. She had seen it before and hadn't run in revulsion, so unless the dark light and the new sores made him particularly more disgusting he didn't think she would. And, if she did run and scream she would be another person reaffirming what he knew about himself.

Even though he was a self-deprecating individual, Erik had always taken care of his skin - fearing the damage an infection would cause and how much more repulsive he believed he would become. Due to this he had a regimented routine of oils and ointments that calmed inflammation, helped fight infection and soothed irritation, but not being home meant he had none of these at his disposal. He knew Meg would have some cold cream, but he daren't ask for soap fearing she would bring the carbolic and he knew that would strip his skin of all moisture.

When Meg returned to the room carrying a tray with a pot of tea, she was surprised to see that Erik was not wearing his mask or wig; wthout them he seemed vulnerable, naked and bare. Pushing aside her apprehension she gingerly placed the tray on the small oak table next to the settee and made a move to sit in the smaller chair opposite, but as she did Erik's long figures wrapped around his wrist.

"Sit with me". The words were an instruction, but the tone remained sullen. He didn't believe she would wish to be in his company considering his appearence, yet the dancer sat with such close proximity her knees touched his thigh.

Meg had made the conscious decision not to turn away from Erik's face, not to flinch and not to stare. She had seen his face at close proximity before, but the twisted skin, absent nose and sunken eyes were not an easy sight. When Christine had decribed his appearance she had made him sound like a demon, but Meg considered that an exaggeration. To Christine it made sense; she was devout and had believed Erik to be an angel, to her his sudden appearance as a man combined with his appearance could make him seem demonic, especially as her religion taught that the devil used tricks and lies to deter people from the light. In Meg's opinion she didn't see the face of a demon, she saw the face of a very broken man; one she didn't want to break anymore.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence and Erik shifting in his seat to distance his leg from her offending knee he finally found the strength to ask her: "Why are you so kind to me?"

Meg allowed an exhausted sigh to escape her lips before she answered, lightly placing her hands atop his. "I know you don't believe me, but I've told you before: everyone deserves kindness Erik". As she spoke she rose her hand to touch the sore side of his face, only to withdraw it at the last moment wondering if such an uninvited move would cause an outburst. "Does it hurt?"

He nodded in response, "not normally, but it is irritated. At home I have ointments and oils that I would normally use to help - aloe vera to be precise"

Meg looked at him confused. She had never heard of something called aloe vera. "I am afraid I don't have any of that. The best I can offer is warm water, carbolic soap and cold cream"

"Then just the water please" he said, hoping she wouldn't see fit to submerge the carbolic soap.

\--xxx--

It didn't take long for Meg's flat to be overcome with stillness. Erik found the darkness and silence caused by her sleeping reassuring providing him with a space to think. On Meg's settee he lay still for hours replaying the events of the night over in his mind; he analysed every action and scrutinised every expression. As minutes turned into hours something became abundantly clear to Erik; the only reason he hadn't killed Firmin was Meg. In fact, Meg was the reason he hadn't killed Oliver. On both occasions she had been the person to calm him and prevent him from decending into the depths of his past he would rather forget.

Erik's intial plan had been to show the Vicomte and André that their buisness partner was a snake in the grass, thus giving him some creditibility with the Victome which would allow him to garner an understanding of whether he knew of his mother's deciet. But Christine's impromptu arrival had resulted in a rapid change of plan: he had the opportunity to show her that the de Chagny's did not value her, care for her or love her, whereas he did. He would enable her to fly while they wanted her caged. But instead of running to him with open arms she had remained silent, only speaking to protest claims of an affair. Then she had hurridly left with her husband.

Erik didn't understand why she couldn't see that everything he did was for her. In his mind she had encouraged his adoration and amorous feelings. She had written to him, told him she missed him and expressed eager anticipation for his arrival in England. She had lied to her husband to see him, yet, she denied him the romantic love he desired. She looked horrified when she saw him punjab Firmin, but he knew she had forgiven previous transgressions of a simular nature, including his threats to kill her then-fiancé, so he couldn't understand why she didn't forgive again.

He didnt understand why she didn't stay with him. He didn't understand why Nadir didn't stay with him. He didn't understand why only person who did stay was Meg.

He lay staring at the ceiling and began to think about Meg. She was kind and compassionate. She held him while he cried, walked with him for over an hour only to turn accept the journey had been in vein. She was risking her tenancy to allow him to sleep on her settee.

The more he thought about his interactions with Meg the more unsettled he became. Meg had sacrificed her engagement to protect him. Meg was not dancing ballet to help him. Meg had forgiven his appalling behaviour towards her with compassion and understanding. Meg had held him when he cried. Meg had stopped him from becoming the Phantom and Angel of Doom on two seperate occasions. Meg never flinched or ran from his face. Meg willingly touched him and wanted to be in his company. He had shared his past with her and she didn't run in disgust, instead she listened and accepted.

Meg had shown him more compassion than anyone else in his entire life, even more than Nadir, yet he had treated her with anger and manipulation. He knew he had toyed with her emotions to try and control her, and now the thought made him feel nauseous and disgusted. He had made it a rule never to regret his actions, but as he thought about how he had treated his friend the sense of guilt became overwhelming. Meg had consistently said he was a better man, but his behaviour towards her indicated otherwise - becoming progressively worse the more time he spent with Christine. He had side-lined her, yet she continued to be at his side when he needed her.

Unable to sleep he quietly stood and made his way to Meg's room, pushing the door open a slither to allow him to see her sleeping form. Meg looked peaceful and content, clearly having a pleasant dream as a light smile played across her face.

As he stood looking at her he realised he had been blind: Christine had said that you make sacrifices for the people you love, and Meg had made many for him. He had the love of a beautiful, whitty and intelligent woman.

He held a firey passion for Christine, but in Meg's presence he felt comfortable and at ease. His mind drifted to the day they visited the museum and he remembered how 'normal' he felt. He had wanted a content life in the daylight, to take strolls in the park and visit museums and galleries, all with the woman he loved and who loved him back. He had wanted to feel 'normal' his entire life and with Meg he did.

Once the revelation dawned upon him Erik fought back tears and pushed the door to so she couldn't hear his muffled cries. Settling back on the settee and wrapping himself in the blanket that smelt of Meg he closed his eyes, finally succumbing to sleep.

\--xxx--

Meg hurried about her flat as light-footed as possible, knowing Erik to be a light sleeper and not wanting to disturb him from his much needed rest. On several occasions she had seen him stir and she stood motionless waiting to see whether he would wake before continuing her chores.

Remembering to bring a shopping bag Meg quietly made her way out of her building and found a cab to take her to Erik's.

Upon her arrival she was greeted by an exhausted looking Nadir. She could tell from the dark circles and heavy bags, as well as the bloodshot eyes, that he hadn't slept well. She knew she would face an inquisition from Nadir about the events that occured once they left the theatre, but Meg was more concerned with fetching Erik some essentials and his aloe vera to spend time worrying about what the Persian and her mother hand to say.

"Are you safe?", Antionette asked from the doorway after she heard the brief greetings between her daughter and Nadir, "from what I heard Erik was - well - dangerous last night".

Giving her mother a broad smile and a peck on the cheek Meg replied that she was fine and was just fetching somethings for her house guest.

"He cannot stay with you!", Antionette objected, once again showing concern for her daughter's reputation. She was concerned for Erik, but she knew he could weather any storm, whereas Meg's reputation and future could not.

"Honestly it is fine. He just needs some space. I don't think it is wise for him to come here and be questioned and chastised right now", she responded walking towards the stairs, "he is broken mamam. More broken than before".

"That is what I am worried about my dear", Nadir cut in, "Erik likes to be in control and when he isn't he can become quite volitle.".

"I know", she said acending the stairs with Nadir following her. She reiterated to Nadir the purpose of her visit was to collect a few essentials for Erik, and something called aloe vera, and requested his help. Although she knew Nadir didn't like to enter Erik's personal realm uninvited he had done so on many occasions, thus he was the best person to ask for assistance.

"Aloe vera is a plant", Nadir explained while handing her a small vial containing a clear gel. Meg held the vial confused, but seeing her expression he elaborated, "you can harvest the gel inside to make remedies. It helps heal and clean wounds - which is why I am assuming Erik wants it"

"Oh - Erik didn't send me. He was sleeping when I left", she replied placing the vial in her bag. "He doesn't know I am here".

\--xxx--

Erik was unhappy to find that Meg wasn't present when he awoke, and was even more unhappy when she returned with a bag of his belongings.

"You shouldn't have gone there", he spoke a sharp tone, "what about the police? They could have followed you"

"There were no police. Just mamam and Nadir", she responded as she lay everything out on the small end table and then proudly presented him with the vial of liquid. "You said you needed it, so I went and fetched it".

As Erik took the vial he fought back tears; it was such a small gesture and he found it unbelievable that she would have done something so kind.

"I dont deserve you in my life" he muttered turning away from her as he removed his mask and removed the cork from the vial. She watched him as he put a small amount of the oil on his finger tips and began to rub it onto his face in small circular motions. Meg was captivated by the routine he undertook, and almost offered to assist him.

"There is something I need to tell you", Meg said in a worried tone as she perched on the edge of the chair opposite him. Her words forcing him to stop his routine and glance nervously at her left hand. He was relieved to see she didn't wear André's ring, but her nervous body language and the way she was nervously gripping the chair didn't fill him with eager anticipation.

Biting her lip until it drew blood Meg began to doubt the wisdom of sharing her plans with him following the events of the previous night. Seeing her nerves Erik knelt before her and took her hands offering reassurance, as she had previously done for him.

"Meg?", his voice genuinely concerned by her sudden silence.

"Once the production's run is over I am going to Russia", she tried to speak with enthusiasm, "Mamam has been offered a teaching position at a new school they intend to call the Ballet Russes. I have been asked to accompany her. Nadir...".

"Nadir?", Erik interrupted, feeling a pit of anger growing in his stomach; of course the Persian was involved in this.

"The offer came through him. He is aquanited with the owner and will be acting as our translator until we learn the language".

Sitting back on his heels Erik's eyes narrowed considering how he could prevent her from leaving, but his face softened when he realised such behaviour would be another attempt to manipulate and control her - something he didn't wan't to continue doing. He didn't want Meg to leave. Not now.

Still gripping her hands tightly he spoke slowly, trying to annunciate the importance of his words:"I don't want you to go"

Meg removed her hands from his and subconsciously rubbed her eyes, "I'm sorry, but I'm not going to sacrifice my happiness for you Erik. This is a wonderful opportunity that I can't turn down"

It was an excellent opportunity for Meg and Erik knew that he should have felt happy for her, but he didn't. Instead he focused on her words: she wasn't going to make a sacrifice for him.


	42. XLII: One Night

The de Chagny dining room, although one of the lightest rooms in the residence, was one of the most oppressive. The walls were a plain green but being south facing the room recieved an abundance of light, and large French windows opened into the garden, but the atmosphere was never happy.

When Raoul had purchased the house it had been one of Christine's favourite rooms. She had imagined hosting dinner parties and receptions after a night at the opera or theatre, singing and entertaining their guests, with an abundance of food w present. In reality no such events had ever occured; they hadn't had any guests for dinner, except her mother-in-law, and the home remained deathly silent.

Christine longed to have children fill the home with laughter and imagined family dinners at the large mahogany table, having already decided she would pressure Raoul to allow her to be more proactive in the childcare than her position would dictate. She remembered sitting at her the dinner table in her childhood home drawing pictures with her father, other times he taught her to read music and they would enjoy eating hearty home cooked meals. As things were she doubted she would ever experience the family life she desired: Raoul had yet to address the issue of his mother and she couldn't forsee a future with him if he wasn't strong enough to put her first.

Christine couldn't comprehend why breakfast seemed a normal affair. The night before they had witnessed Erik bind and drug one of Raoul's buisness partners, who then admitted to working in cahoots woth his mother to undermine their marriage. She was both angry and hurt by her mother-in-law's actions; she knew that the Doweger disliked her, the snide remarks and dissaproving looks made it obvious, but to pay someone to try and destroy her son's marriage was a level of iniquity she could never have imagined possible. How could such a wicked woman have bore a gentle soul like Raoul?

Then there was Raoul, she knew it would be difficult for him to believe his mother's actions. On several occasions he had challenged her, but the iniquity of his mother's actions must have been difficult for him to reconcile, but she couldn't understand why they were sitting at the table as though nothing had happened.

Her hurt and anger only grew as she listened to Raoul casually speak with his mother about her impending return to France, and how she would be glad to be away from their haunted house and awful country. Raoul's inability to confront his mother was causing her to become increasingly incensed and the seeds of doubt about her feelings for began to grow. He had told her he way trying to find ways to become financially independent from the de Chagny Estate so that she could be happy, but right now she felt the unhappiest she had been since her father's passing.

When the Doweger called their house 'haunted' a sudden realisation dawned upon him, causing a large clatter as his knife dropped upon the fine done China plate.

"Are you quite alright Raoul dear", his mother asked patting his arm.

"Yes mother", he replied placing a hand atop hers to acknowledge the maternal gesture, "I was just reminded of something - someone - unsavoury",

"No more unsavoury than her", Christine mutted to herself as she stirred her tea, briefly catching sight of one of the gaping maids causing a strange sense a satisfaction knowing that the comment had been heard by the staff.

"Excuse me?", came the Doweger's scowering tone causing her to furrow her brow. She knew the maid had heard her, but Raoul's mother barely paid attention to anything she said, making it poor luck that she chose that particular moment to listen . "What did you say?" the older woman asked.

"Nothing", Christine replied with a false sweet smile before trying to hide her ammusement through sipping her tea. As she drank Roaul spoke to her in a low hiss, directing her to apologise. The exchange wasn't missed by her mother-in-law, which made Christine detest the situation further.

Placing her tea cup down and offering another false smile Christine began to apologise, but she ceased midway. She wasn't sorry for what she said; Raoul's mother was far more unsavoury than Erik - since he revealed himself to be a man she didn't believe he had actively tried to decieve her, whereas Raoul's mother had been lying to them since her arrival in England. Christine looked at her husband and shook her head in disgust, "I'm not sorry because it is the truth"

"How do you speak to me like that!", the Doweger shouted, causing the staff to physically flinch at the sudden aggression in the elderly woman's face and tone. Since the incident with the chamber maid she had become unpredictable, but no one in the household had seen the normally reserved woman react in such a way.

"And how dare you speak to me in the manner and tone that you do. You have been disrespectful to me for months", Christine said calmly, rising to her feet to bring greater impact to her words. "I am the mistress of this house, not you. You have tried to drive me from my home and from the arms of my husband, but you have failed.".

"I have done no such thing", the Doweger responded, standing and placing her palms flat on the table. "It is not my fault you are unable to fulfil the role of wife and mother"

Turning to her husband for support Christine felt her heart break a little when he meekly responded with "Lotte..."

Her anger towards her mother-in-law did not decrease as her anger towards her husband rose, "No Raoul. I will not tolerate her rudeness for a single moment more. She is far more unsavoury than Erik - at least he takes responsibility for his actions"

Feeling somewhat small in comparison to the two standing women Raoul stood and shook his head in Christine's direction. "Mother's behaviour is inexcusable, but do not make excuses for that man. What of mother's illness?". He didn't want to speak too plainly because he knew Christine understood his meaning.

"I dont know what you mean" she said, knowing it was a lie. Erik had all but admitted he was behind the Doweger's belief in ghosts and her lack of sleep, but the bitter part of her wanted the woman to feel some of the abject misery she had been put through, so she gave her husband a genuinely bewildered look before refocusing the conversation: "It is either her or me".

Raoul's momentary pause was long enough for Christine to leave the room.

\--xxx--

Raoul looked at the doorway stunned by his wife's uncharacteristic behaviour. He had known Christine was fatigued with both his mother's continued presence and poor attitude, as was he, but she was normally well reserved. He fully intended to address Firmin's confession and his mother's behaviour, but he needed to consult a solicitor , Phillippe and discuss his possible actions with her before chosing a final path. As he stood staring at the doorway he realised that he should've explained to Christine what he intended to do before breakfast, rather than continuing with a façade of normality, but he wanted to do it in his own time. He was mindful that if he rushed mistakes could be made, and the situation was already as delicate as a house of cards.

"I shall contact our solictor to make arrangements for an annulment. We can use the falsehood of purity as a reason."

"You will do no such thing mother!" Raoul almost bellowed bringing his hand down firmly on the table, causing the cutlery and plates to rattle.

The Doweger opened her.mouth to respond, but was stunned by her youngest son's sudden behaviour that she couldn't find the words.

Seeing his opportunity Raoul made for the door, but before leaving the room he turned, "I have told you countless times that Christine was chaste when we married. Of that I am certain".

As he ascended the stairs Raoul began to doubt his own words. Christine was religious and he didn't question her belief she was chaste, but he always had his suspicions about Destler and how easily he could have manipulated Christine. She hadn't bled the night of their marriage, it was clear it had been uncomfortable and caused her pain, but there was no blood. They had spoken about it after and he believed her word, for she swore on the memory of her father and the Holy Bible, but he had been told that chaste women bled. He had decided it didn't matter, he would have married her regardless of her purity, but he would have preferred honesty from her.

When Raoul stood outside Christine's door he could hear her quietly sobbing, which made him feel insurmountably guilty. If he hadn't involved himself with Firmin his mother wouldn't have been able to interfere in their lives in such a way, she would've made her remarks but she wouldn't have been able to find multiple means to try and manipulate them into ending their marriage. In his eyes life was being unfair: yes, he was lucky not to be living on the streets or in the poorhouse and to be married to his childhood sweetheart who was the most beautiful woman in the world, but now everything was falling apart - and it was his fault.

In his attempt to make Christine happy he had knowingly brought Destler back into their lives. He had known it would be dangerous, but Firmin's idea had made alot of sense. He also didn't want his marriage to end; he was willing to cut ties with his family to make Christine happy, he had just hoped they would've had enough money to live well once he took the plunge.

With a heavy anticipation Raoul knocked quickly on the door, and when he wasn't refused entry he nervously opened it to see Christine sitting at her dressing table head in hands, crying softly.

"You", Raoul stated firmly, "it is always you. It always was, it is now, and it always will be".

"You dithered", she replied lifting her head but not turning to see him. "You needed to think. You shouldn't have needed to think"

"I didn't dither. I was surprised you gave me an ultimatium. That isn't like you", he explained closing the door, "it is - and always will be - you" he repeated. "You know I have been trying to break free from my family's grasp. I just need time to deal with mother"

"I want her out of my home", the Vicomtess stated flatly, now turning to her husband who had perched himself on the edge of her bed.

"and she will be. I need to speak with Phillipe and demand she stay at the hotel with him. I also need to speak with a solictor and accountant about our finances. But please Lotte, don't forget that everything I do, I do for you".

A deathly silence hung over the couple as they sat staring at each other, Christine slightly shaken by the similarity between her husband's words and Erik's. Making the connection himself Raoul patted the spot next to him on the bed.

Reluctantly she rose and joined him, lacing her fingers on her lap and continuing to look downwards rather than at her husband. His words had seemed to reassure her, but her manner suggested it wouldn't be enough.

It was an awkward silence, neither certain of what to say. She wanted to believe him, but his inability to defend her and protect her form his mother had left her doubtful. Raoul wanted to believe his words and subsequent actions would be enough, but he knew there was something else unspoken that hung in the air between them.

"Do you love him?" he finally asked, immediately regretting the question.

After a moment of contemplation she replied "yes" before letting out another sob. At that moment Raoul felt like his heart had been ripped from his chest, he was certain he had lost her - if he had ever really had her - but her next words gave him unassailable hope, " - and no. He means alot to me, but so do you. I love you more than I can say"

"Am I second best? Your second choice?" he asked anxiously, not fully satisfied by her previous answer.

"No", she responded several times in quick seccession, "No. Never. But I need to see him. I need to talk to him. I need to understand. This isn't about us, it is about me and him".

\--xxx--

After Meg had told Erik about her plans to travel to Russia, courtesy of Nadir's organisation skills, he felt a strong urge to return home. His mind drifted to his dresser and then wardrobe leading to the formulation of a plan to stop Meg leaving.

Meg was in the kitchen washing the dishes when she heard the door open and close. She immediately began to panic: if her landlady saw Erik leave her flat then she would be on the street by lunchtime. She hurried to the door to follow him, wiping her wet hands on her apron, but stopped once she reached the door. If she followed there would most likely be more questioning eyebrows than if he left alone. Erik also understood the gravity of being inconspicious and he was certainly capable of moving around without being seen: she needed to have faith in his abilities.

She leaned against the door and wrapped her arms around her chest in a feeble attempt to seek some comfort. She hadn't meant to be cruel by telling Erik about Russia, but doing so while he was in his current vulnerable state, had been careless. She hadn't wanted to cause him more pain, but she couldn't keep sacrificing her dreams due to an unrequited love fuelled by scraps of affection

\--xxx--

Erik didn't intend on being away from Meg for long. He believed every moment he spent away from her was a moment she could be lured into the arms of Gilles André. In some ways Meg marrying André would solve his problem, but that would mean accepting that Meg was forever out of his reach.

As he travelled the short cab journey to his home the contradiction in his approach towards Meg and Christine was not lost on him. If Meg married André he would respect her choice, whereas he did not respect Christine's decision to marry Raoul. Was it because he loved Christine unconditionally? Or was it because he respected Meg's decisions more than his Angel's? Erik was still pondering the questions when his cab pulled up outside the large double fronted doors to his house.

An unusually large sum of money changed hands in exchange for the driver waiting. Erik had no intention of being subjected to the third degree from either Nadir of Antionette, instead he was going to seek out the items he desired and then promptly return to Meg. Part of him would be glad when Nadir went off to Russia with Antionette - as long as Meg stayed - because then he could go back to living a life without interference.

Upon entry Erik immediately went to his bedchamber ignoring both Nadir's and Antionette's calls, and went to his chest of drawers. Hidden beneath his various cravats and hankerchiefs was a small wooden box. He removed it with great care and stared at its contents: sitting in the middle was Meg's ring. He had chosen something ostentatious on purpose, he wanted to show off his wealth and annoy that boy Oliver who had attacked him and removed his mask. At the time he had been pleased with his decision, but now he began to resent it. Meg's former engagement ring represented falsehood, lies and deciet. He removed it and turned it over in his hand; an engagement ring should represent love and a future, which is something that ring did not.

Erik went to his dark cherry wardrobe and after moving several pairs of Italian leather shoes he found an old small tin box with hand-painted English roses on the lid. Inside there was a portrait of his mother and father, his father's cravat pin and an heirloom garnet ring. There was also a Georgian engagement ring: in some ways it was simular to Meg's with a large stone set in a cluster, but unlike Meg's the centre stone was a smooth white opal rather than a dazzling sapphire. It was surrounded by diamonds in the shape of a flower with the shoulders were engraved and shaped like leaves. He sat on the floor looking at it and held it up to compare to Meg's. It was certainly less flamboyant than Meg's, and whomever he gave the ring to would understand it's significance. If he gave the ring to Meg she wouldn't be able to leave for Russia without his permission. She also would understand his feelings towards her, afterall the ring was symbolic of family and love.

As he stood to leave Erik caught his appearance in the mirror and cringed. His clothes were creased from sleeping and what he was wearing was certainly not an ensemble suitable for day attire. He removed Christine's dog-eared letters from his breast pocket and placed them on the table before quickly changing into a dark navy suit with a white cravat. Once dressed he smoothed his shirt and instinctively went to place the letters in their normal home, only to allow his hand to hover above the pile.

Christine's letters had been full of such promise, but reflecting upon their content he began to consider that he had Read too much into them. Maybe her anticipation of his visit, her kind words and sweet reminisces had been nothing more than what they appeared. Maybe Meg had been right and Christine didn't love him the way he wanted, and maybe she never had. Erik took one last look at the pile of letters before he slipped his mother's engagement ring into the breast pocket where they had once resided.

Secure in the knowledge he was currently in the pocession of the key to his future happiness Erik was about to make a quick dash to the front door and his waiting cab, but stopped when he heard the dulcet tone of his angel carried up the stairs.

\--xxx--

"But Monsieur, I must speak with him", Christine pled to Nadir, "it is not a trap - you have my word". She couldn't blame the Persian for being cautious - the events of last night had included some illegal activity, and she knew the Persian had once been the chief of police to the Shah of Persia. She was also aware of Raoul's unsettling attempt at a stare directed at the man who had once helped him find his way into Erik's lair.

"I am afraid your husband's presence outside does not reassure me of that", Nadir spoke affirming Christine's suspicions.

"He is here at my bequest, and he means neither Erik nor you any harm". She tried to be reassuring, but was certain she had spoken with the smug and upper-class tone that her mother-in-law used when she spoke to the staff.

"Christine is not a liar", Antionette interjected into the conversation before turning and addressing her former charge, "but Monsieur Khan is thinking of both you and Erik. I don't think it would benefit either of you to see eachother"

"Raoul will keep his word not to harm Erik or contact the police, and he will ensure that Messuers Firmin and André keep theirs", Christine said, trying to steer the conversation in a direction she was more satisfied with. Each time she spoke shd hoped her words would convince Erik's guests to share his location. When no information was forthcoming she decided to try a different tack: "But I must see Erik. I am to sing in his production, so I must learn the songs and score"

"You know them" Erik's voice came from the top of the stairs, causing Christine to jump with surprise, "you have been learning them for months".

Erik's decent reminded Christine of the night of the masquerade, with each step careful and perfectly timed. Each step onimous, but also alluring. Unlike that night he wasnt dressed in an elaborate red death outfit but a respectable navy suit, one that complimented his form and made him look like an attractive, smart, English gentleman. "You are no fool Madame la Vicomtess, don't act like one" he stated once he reached the bottom of the flight.

"I need to speak to you", she repeated taking a step closer to him, to which Erik nodded in acknowledgement and gestured for her to follow him into the parlour. Nadir attempt to follow but was stopped by the door being almost slammed in his face.

"I would you offer you some tea, but I am afraid I do not intend on staying long myself", he said while making his way to the wing-backed chair near the window. Under normal circumstances he would chose the chair because its positioning provided him with a view of both the garden and the doorway, but now it was the furthest seat from any other.

Following his que Christine sat, carefully removing each of her long gloves and placing them neatly on the table. Erik watched her nervously, certain that each slow movement was a deliberate attempt to further his anguish and cause a surge in conflicting emotions. Christine was beautiful, truly and angel, with an ethereal air about her; he wanted to embrace and surround himself with her scent, but he felt a growing sense of guilt thinking about her in such a way when his mother's ring sat in his breast pocket.

Christine had been dissapointed that Erik had chosen to sit in the chair furthest away from others - she wasn't surprised, just dissapointed. She had wanted to speak to Erik and come to understand his behaviour, and she felt this would be better served with closer proximity. She gave Erik a conforting smile before inviting him to join her by lightly patting the empty seat next to her.

Christine was surprised qhen he moved, his body language not showing a hint of reservation, and once he had joined her they sat in silence for several minutes. Erik was feeling conflicted and confused, Christine desperate.

"Erik, please look at me", she instructed, reaching out and placing a hand on his cheek. Her gentle touch guided him.m to look at her. Christine's eyes were a beautiful shade of blue: light with grey specks, reflecting all the compassion and kindness she had within her. They held no hate for him, only tenderness and compassion. They sat looking into one and anothers eyes for several long moments before Erik turned away and widened the distance between them, running his hands over his wig and flexing his figures indicating his growing anxiety.

"You toy with me" he muttered without turning to face her - releasing the irony as he behaved in the same way towards Meg. Christine's letters were her toying with him: their meetings, their kiss, this visit: it was a game. He hadn't thought her capable of such duplicity or vindictiveness, but he couldn't think of a rational reason for her being present in his home after the events of the previous night.

"I dont understand", she said more meekly than intended, certain she wasn't aware of what he had meant.

"You are not unintelligent Christine, so don't act like it. Niave: yes, unintelligent: no", but the long silence drew him to continue. Still not facing her, he decided to ask why she had come to his home.

"I needed to see you". He had hoped she would elaborate more, but accepted he needed to settle for the ambiguous answer. Erik quickly glanced over his shoulder to get a sight of her, hoping it would be missed. Christine gave him a small smile and took the gesture as an invitation to approach, but whe she stood and saw him flinch she decided it would be best to remain seated.

"I need you to explain last night. There were other ways you could have informed us of Raoul's mother's behaviour. You didn't need to drug him"

"He would have lied", Erik shrugged in response trying to maintain a blaisé appearance while imwardly agreeing with her. He knew his actions were disproportionate and that Firminwas weakn enough that mild threats would probably have been enough to break him, but he had been overcome by his old ways and habits, and although he hated to admit it, he had enjoyed himself before it all started to go wrong.

"I saw him meet with the Doweger Comtess and I knew she would not be having a social meeting with him. I needed him to tell the truth so that your husband and André knew of duplicity"

"But why not just tell them? Why the drugs? It was unneeded and aggressive"

Erik turned and looked at her confused, he genuinely didn't understand the question:

"they wouldn't believe me" he answered with a non-committal shrug.

Christine had to admit that was true, she didnt know André well but she knew Raoul would have been distrustful. "I believed you" she said rising to her feet and crossing the room, placing her hand on his arm.

Erik's muscles tensed before he turned to face her, "You weren't supposed to be there".

"But I was" she whispered placing her hand on his cheek. "You didn't need to resort to such behaviour"

Erik placed his hand atop hers and sighed. She was too kind. After everything he had done she was offering her touch and she seemed to understand his motivation.

"I agreed to sing for you Erik - against Raoul's wishes. He knew nothing of his mother's actions. His connection to Firmin and André has been an attempt to free us from fiancial dependancy on his family name. I was going to sing again" she said stepping closer and wrapping her arms around Erik's engulfing him in him"I know you did this for me, that you want me.to be happy"

Erik didn't understand her actions, she was speaking fondly of her husband but holding him. He actually was starting to feel sorry for the Vicomte; he may have been a fool, as there were many - easier - ways to make money. He had also been driven to unscrupulous actions by his unwavering love for Christine, the same way he had been.

Erik went to place his hand upon Christine's back and hold her close, but the image of a blonde ballerina came into his head. Whatever was unfolding between him and Christine could destroy his plans for Meg, so rather than return her embrace he remained still.

Disapointed that Erik did not return her embrace Christine stepped away and turned. What she was about to say required unwavering courage because she was about to risk everything: her heart, her marriage and her eternal soul. She couldn't bare to face him as she spoke, for fear he would judge her.

"I need closure Erik. I need to know how I feel about you. I need you to hold me, to be with me", her voice tembled as she spoke, "give me one night in your arms to see how I feel"


	43. XLIII: The Answer

**_AN: -Thank you to Kimberly84 and the guest who left reviews/comments._**

**_Sorry to have left you on a cliff - this one took longer as I am back at work_** **_and all the covid precautions and risk assessments meant I ended-up having to do more work at home than usual._**

\--xxx--

"Is that what you truly want?" Erik asked, not turning to face her.

"Please don't make me repeat it. It wasn't easy to say", the Vicomtess responded. She hoped Erik would turn to face her and that his gaze would give her more peace of mind.

"And why was that my dear?" he asked, making his way to the drinks cabinet, briefly glancing over his shoulder to see a terrified looking Christine. It was unclear whether she was terrified of him accepting or rejecting her proposition, but he knew she wasn't enjoying her predicament. When she didn't respond, instead picking up her gloves and playing with the fingers , he continued by answering his own question. " It was difficult because you don't wish to come to my bed.You would regret it. It is a betrayal of your husband and your God"

"You love me". She asserted placing the gloves back on the table, "I owe so much to your love. Your teaching, your conversation, and your company - it all made me happy. And I long to be happy again"

Her comment gave Erik insight into her behaviour: she was unhappy and was trying to cling to a semblance of an idealised past. She longed for a time before she knew he was a man, before she had seen his face and before the events at the Populaire and the theatre. She also appeared to believe she owed him a debt of gratitude for those times and wanted to repay him with something he desired.

Erik rocked his tumbler watching the amber liquid swirl. He had torn her life apart for the second time: this time he hadn't lied to her, he had tried to protect her from deciet, but he had caused her more pain and that had never been his intention.

For years he had dreamed of the moment Christine would come to him, offering her love and her body, yet now it felt somehow hollow. She wasn't offering her undying love, she was offering a night born out of confusion and self-doubt. He wanted to be loved for himself, not because of an unpaid debt or unhappy marriage. If he accepted her, than he was chosing to help ruin her, to help her turn her back on God and break her moral code. It would destroy her and leave them both feeling hollow.

Meg had said he was a better man, and now was his opportunity to right some of his wrongs. Taking a large swig of whisky he put on a stoic face. "I don't love you" he said firmly, surprised by how easily the words came.

"Don't lie to me Erik!" she shouted, stepping towards him in a rage, "I know you do. You've told me many times. You've told me everything you have done has been because of your love for me. You've cared for me, protected me, taught me to sing"

"So you feel you owe me one night of sin as payment? Tell me Madame, do you consider yourself a prostitute? Do you think so little of me that I would accept such an offer?"

Christine stepped back, offended by his words, but also shocked by the poignancy.

"I..I...that isn't what I meant", she stutterd, "don't twist my words or their meaning to suit your inner dialogue"

"Like you, I only want to be loved for myself", Erik said calmly - taking a seat opposite her. He knew what to do, and he knew how she would react. He would be the man Meg believed him to be: he would stop lying to Christine.

"I shall tell you a story. You mustn't interrupt and there must be no questions. If you still wish to come to my bed once it is complete, then I will be more than willing to oblidge".

\--xxx--

Before Christine returned to the carriage she needed a few minutes to compose herself. The Persian and Antionette had helped calm her, giving her lemon water and a hankerchief, as well as the use of a mirror. She couldn't go back to Raoul looking as she did; red eyes and a face drained of colour. She had managed to gain control of the trembling, but she needed more time to regain her colouring.

When she finally returned to him, she immediately noticed Raoul's agitated state. She had spent longer than she had intended in Erik's house, and although he knew nothing of her proposition she had the unnerving feeling that he suspected something untoward had happened.

Raoul did not ask about the exchange, instead offering his arms as a comfort for his clearly distressed wife. They sat motionless in eachother's arms for several minutes, with him lightly stroking her hair and whispering words of reassurance, before he directed the carriage to take him to The Langham.

Once their embrace ended Christine continued to grip his hand tightly and rest her head on his shoulder, the gentle movement of the carriage lulling her into a light doze, exhausted from the lack of sleep and emotional exhaustion. Raoul gently ran his thumb over the back of her hand; he knew she was both emotionally and physically tired and he hadn't helped. Christine had been through enough drama to last a lifetime and now he needed to draw the line and face the consequences. Christine was going to sing, not because she had promised Destler but because she wanted to. The consequence would be a large reduction in their wealth, but they would weather the storm and he would find work. If his mother and Phillippe severed ties with him then so be it - his mother's actions were unforgivable. She had taunted his wife for too long, and her orchestration of trying to end their marriage had been the final straw.

Once they pulled up outside The Langham Raoul was reluctant to leave his wife, but he needed to speak to Phillippe alone. Christine said she understood but it didn't ease his guilt as he gave her a parting kiss. Before he left she expressed her desire to see Meg Giry. Prior to the disclosure abiut his mother Raoul would've advised against her spending time with the ballerina, but now oroperity hardly seemed to matter: they would soon use up their fiancial reserves, Christine was going to sing, and his mother was going back to France.

\--xxx--

Christine had assumed her friend lived in simular luxory to Erik, yet the building that housed Meg's flat was like every other along the road. The enterence itself was quite grand, with large while pillars and a decorative black and white tiled floor, but beyond the dark wood of the foyer and the stained glass in the large green communial door that hallways were plain and uninviting.

Christine didn't know much about the role of Middle class women in English society, having already discovered the standards of behaviour between France and England to be quite different, but she knew middle class spinsters rarely lived in their own and when they did they would live in women's only property, and overall Meg's building didn't seem completely uninviting.

Most unmarried middle class women in England often remained with their families until they married, but Meg didn't have that luxory as neither her nor her mother were of independent means and Antionette had still be in the United States when Meg made the journey across the Atlantic. Meg also wasn't working in the most respected profession for young women, although actresses and dancers for the theatres in England were granted higher status than in France, but nonetheless their meetings in America had given Christine the impression that Meg was living a more elaborate lifestyle.

When she climbed the stairs to Meg's flat she was relieved to see female names listed on the doors, indicating the location only housed single women and Meg was safe from any lecherious behaviour caused by rowdy single gentleman. She recieved a questioning look from an older women, who surveyed her appearance with interest, but she paid her no mind.

The hallway and corridor leading to Meg's flat was quite narrow and there were no windows to provide natural light. Since decended to the bowels of the opera house with Erik Christine had developed a dislike for rooms and passages only lit by artificial light, she found them ominous and compressing. When she finally reached the door with the name 'Miss Marguerite Giry' on it she knocked and waited.

\--xxx--

Meg was annoyed at Erik for not leaving her a note, and athough she understood that he hadn't spent much time around people, she still found his abundant rudeness infuriating as he was a highly intelligent man who was capable of interacting within society. She had given him clear instructions not to leave her home untill she was certain her landlady wouldn't see him, yet he had departed unaccompanied and in his own time.

It didn't matter that it was highly unlikely that Erik would get caucaug- he was an expert at espionage - it was his rideness and disregard for her security that upset her.

Assuming the knock on the door was Erik's attempt to apologise she opened it with an angry furvour, only to be dumbfounded by the presence of the Vicomtess de Chagny.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I didn't know who else to turn to", the brown haired woman said in a quiet tone, before entering the flat once Meg stepped aside.

Once the tea was made and pleasantries said Christine explained that she had been to Erik's home.

"I asked him to spend a night with me", she said. Trying to sound indifferent, but her voice cracked as she spoke and she averted her gaze to aviod meeting Meg's eyes.

After the intial shock of Christine's uncharacteristic behaviour had warn off Meg had to fight the urge to inflict physical and emotional harm on her friend. Erik was currently in an emotionally vulnerable state and if he engaged in such activity with "his angel" she knew another rejection would destroy him. If Christine intended on leaving Raoul and eloping with Erik Meg believed she could reluctantly accept the situation, but if she had no intention of leaving her husband then there would be an inevitable barrage of insults.

"He turned me down", the Vicomtess stated alongside a sigh of relief. "I thought that laying with him would make me understand my feelings, but as soon as I spoke I became terrified for my soul".

"And Erik?", Meg asked trying not to seem overly concerned about her ex-fiancé. She was troubled by Christine's uncharacteristic behaviour, but she as more anxious about Erik and his current mental state. As far as she was concerned Erik must have been behaving erratically to have turned Christine down - her friend may not know him - but he believed she was everything he could ever want or need.

"He told me I needed to know him, she said as the colour drained from her face, "then told me a story about his time in Persia. I don't even think he told me it all, but what he did was awful. I don't understand how he could have done such awful things".

In a strange way Meg felt relieved, Erik hadn't turned Christine down because he had decended into madness, he had turned her down because he didn't think she knew him. She knew he hadn't told many people of his past,l and by sharing it with Christine, suspecting the reaction he apparently got, showed that he had grown as a person. He was no.longer trying to manipulate a vulnerable young woman, instead he was trying to be a better man. The man Meg knew him to be.

"Erik is a product of his curcumstances", he sighed as she poured her guest another cup of tea, "he has done truly awful things, but he does have reasons for doing them".

As Meg passed Christine her cup she saw the look of horror and the gaping expression upon her face. "You knew?"

"Yes", she replied nonchalantly before stirring her own tea and looking wistfully at the swirling water.

Christine furrowed her brow and then relaxed her expression when she realised that Erik and Meg shared a close friendship - closer than she and he had ever had. "You know him well", she stated not expecting a response.

"Sometimes I think so, other times not", Meg said pensively, before immediately becoming more critical and changing her tone, "why did you offer yourself to him if you feared for your immortal soul? If you don't desire him then why make him believe you do? It is cruel".

"I never meant to be cruel. There is something about him. He has an allure,

and a magnetism beyond anything I have ever known. His music permiates my soul."

"You may not have meant to be cruel, but you were", Meg rose to her feet, "did you not consider how.your actions would impact on him? Do you not care for him at all?" she was almost shouting. Her hands were shaking and her voice was cracked as she tried to prevent tears of anger engulfing her

Christine sat back on the chair and raised her eyebrows questioningly. Meg's reaction was much more akin to a lover than a colleague, and although she did not know Erik's feelings for Meg, she was certain that Meg's ran deeper than friendship.

"When did you fall in love with him?"

Meg collapsed onto the chair and placed her head in her hands. She had never admitted her feelings towards Erik out loud, they'd always been trapped within her like a caged animal. They were there and they wanted to, and tried to, escape - sometimes they'd claw their way to the surface and she would find herself in a compromising position - but generally she managed to keep them under control. To admit those feelings would be to admit her own foolishness, but with her sheduled departure for Russia, what could she possibly have to lose?

"I'm not sure. On the journey to England - I think - but things changed once we were here. He became more distant and we barely spoke for three months"

"Because of me"

Meg didn't deny it because it was true. Erik had become distant once they were in England, and it was Christine's fault. She had written him letters and given him hope, and when she didn't come running to his arms he had reverted to acting Phantom-esque.

"I'm sorry", Christine muttered reaching for her friends hand, but Meg withdrew it sharply.

"No need to be. I am the foolish one falling in love with a man obsessed with my friend"

\--xxx--

Erik had been watching Meg's building for almost two hours and wa starting ti become impaitent. He was used to waiting and biding his time, but the fact that Christine was currently in Meg's flat - most likely discussing him - was starting to grate on him. He was almost ready to draw the Vicomtess away by spooking her horses and causing a scene, but he needn't bother as the Vicomtess exited the building as he began to stalk closer to her carriage to isntigate the first part of the plan.

Impaitently Erik entered Meg's building and ascended the stairs, not caring if he was seen or for the rules Meg's landlady enforced about gentleman callers. He needed to make sure Meg understood what had happened between himself and Christine, and why he had acted the way he did.

As soon as Meg opened the door Erik pushed past her and forcibly closed it behind him, and without saying a word he took her face in his hands and kissed her. He hadn't intended on announcing his arrival in such a way, but once he saw her standing before him he was overwhelmed with the desire to be close to her.

Meg's immediate reaction was to place her palms upon his chest and push herself away. Followed by slapping him so hard across his face that her hand stung.

"Anyone else..." Erik started,

"and I'd be dead" she finished with a smile playing on her lips, causing him to let out a slight chuckleas he stepped towards her.

This time she allowed him to kiss her and for his hands to bury themselves in her hair, but she still refused him a deeper kiss, causing him to step away in dissapointment. Erik could see the confusion on her face, her nose slightly scrunched and her eyes deep in contemplation as though she was analysing the situation.

Recalling she had been with Christine he

was filled with a sudden surge of panic."I love you" he said almost desperately in an attempt to stop her train of thought, "I love you. It has taken me a while to realise it, but I love you".

But rather than causing her to collapse into his embrace these words had the opposite effect. Meg crossed her arms and shook her head in disbelief. She mentally cursed herself for allowing him to kiss her, believing she should've increased the distance between them after she slapped him. The man was probably an emotional mess and she needed to protect her own heart.

Quickly she retreated to her kitchen, but before she was able to cross the threshold Erik and grabbed her hips and spun her to face him.

"I love you Marguerite Giry"

"Stop this Erik!", he said while pushing him away. "Stop these games. I am not your consolation prize. I am not second best."

"You are not", he said reaching for her, but she batted his hand away.

"I know what happened with Christine. she came to see me. You come to me because you can't have her"

Erik felt a sudden surge of anger towards Christine; he had never taken her for a liar, but if Meg believed he couldnt have Christine then Christine obviously hadn't told Meg that he had denied her.

"I denied her!", Erik bellowed unable to hide his anger. He was standing at his full height, his eyes wide and firey and his body language intimidating and bold."I denied her because I have lied to her for too long. She does not know me, and she never did" he continued in a lower tone but his expression remained the same.

Seeing Meg's wide-eyed shock he shrunk back from the Opera Ghost persona and once again reached for her hands. He could see her reluctance, but she allowed him to take them. Engulfing both her small hands in his he continued, "I never let her know me because I knew she would reject me. She may have been able to accept my face, but never my past", and he lifted her hands to his lips and gave them a light kiss, "she isn't like you. You see me. You accept me"

Meg could feel her resolve crumbling and needed to remind herself that Erik could weave a reality through his manipulation. She needed to be strong and protect her own heart. She once again pulled her hands from his and turned away as she spoke.

"So, I am the easy option? Go away Erik. I've told you before that my heart can't take this"

"I love you Marguerite Giry", Erik said in desperation. He couldn't go through this again- he couldn't face another rejection.

"I have been blind. Tell me, how would I know what love is? How would I know how it feels or what it looks like? I've never seen it or experienced it"

Meg felt tears burn her eyes, she knew Erik had not experienced love in the same way she had and what he said was true. If she remained in his.presnece her resolve would crumble and she would succumb. She wasn't sure what he wanted: companionship or the physical act of love, but she knew that if she remained in his presence she would succumb to whatever he desired due to the longing in her own heart.

"You need to leave",

\--xxx--


	44. XLIV: Off-Ale

Simon Tennason nursed his pint as he listened to his colleagues gossip about the theatre managers, Meg Giry, Erik Destler and the de Chagny's. For most the night theyere was speculation as to why the Vicomte and the managers, along with a foreign gentleman, had started to sit in the auditorium every day and watch rehersals everyday for the last three weeks. Occasionally the conversation would steer into discussions about the opening gala or various people's families, but it always came back to the current gossip.

Meg Giry still seemed to be its main focus, with everyone noticing the increased tension on the stage when she interacted with the Vicomtess. Simon had been surprised that Meg was still the favoured topic of conversation when a member of high-society was performing, but it seemed the predominantly female cast had taken a disliking to her. He didn't really understand the issue himself and it had been his wife who had explained why people were resentful of the young dancer - they didn't think she was there on merit. Initially they thought the same of Christine de Chagny - the wife of one of the investors - but after hearing her voice every member of the company conceeded she belonged on stage. In Simon's opinion so did Meg Giry, but her past relationship with Destler and apparent entanglement with André had sealed her fate in the eyes of many.

It was well known amoung the cast and crew that Mr. Firmin believed "gossip's worth its weight in gold" and that he actively encouraged discussion of the production and its going-ons outside of the theatre walls, but Simon always felt unnerved and uncomfortable speculating about other people's lives. He took another sip of his ale and winced - he was certain the barrel was off and considered whether it was wise to continue drinking. Checking the time on his pocket watch and seeing it was gone 10pm he made his excuses and headed home to his family. He knew Mary, his wife, would be unhappy about his late return and would probably give him the cold shoulder.

Leaving the pub Simon hurried through the streets ensuring he bypassed the enterences to the various twittens and alleyways to avoid unscrupulous characters, ensuring he moved quickly between the streetlights, unaware of the cloaked figure following him. He had only drank one pint and was finding walking difficult- he swayed into a wall and braced himself against it. Mary was going to be angry. If he wasn't well enough for tomorrow's performance his career would be over: there was no way Destler would accept a subpar performance and the man already had taken a dislikingto him. Rubbing his eyes he tried to stand upright - he needed to make it home and then to bed. If he was lucky Mary would be asleep and he could try and pretend he was fine in the morning - he would just need to be mindful of the children's noise.

Using the wall to support himself he took three tentative steps, only to be overcome by the sickly sweet smell of chloroform.

\--xxx--

Simon groaned when he awoke from his enforced slumber, immediately cursing the oof-ale he had drunk the night before. Once his eyes adjusted to the light a sense of panic overtook him: he was not at home. The room was far more ornate and elebaorate than anything he had ever seen and the linen he was lying on was much softer than anything he owned. Upon sitting up he was greeted by a familiar looking man and an elderly woman.

"He's awake", the woman called - almost excitedly- and two more men came into the room.

Not only were his surrounding more ornate and expensive than he had ever seen, but the way the gentleman and lady were dressed told him that they were clearly wealthy - and probably influential - people. He squinted his eyes trying to figure out why the man seemed familiar- he had dirty blonde hair, a roman nose and soft eyes. There was also an obvious familial link between the man and the woman, both having similar eyes and facial shapes.

The two men who entered the room were clearly not as wealthy as the others. The elder man wore a dark navy waistcoat and matching trousers, with an off-white shirt and pale blue navy cravat. The younger one wore a brown tweed suit with matching waistcoat, with a sackcoat and scuffed shoes. Simon knew never to leave the house with scuffed shoes - his mother had once told him it was a sign of poor breading and low income, although the young man's outfit already indicated that. By contrast the familiar gentleman was dressed in a manner suiting someone of status, in a dark herringbone morningsuit, white wing-tipped shirt and a cream ascot tie. Simon could see the gold rings on his fingers, and that accomaonied by the elaborate jewels thay adorned the elder woman's neck made it clear that the other men were in his employment.

When the man in the navy suit spoke Simon was surprised by the strange accent. The woman had spoken with a simular French accent to the Vicomte de Chagny, but the new gentleman sounded American. "We would like to get you home soon", the man said stepping forward, "we are certain Mary will be worrying. Afterall, it would be difficult to raise four children and a baby on her own. Your wife is a pretty thing, although I'd doubt she'd be happy to know you spent your wages on off-ale".

At the mention of his wife and children in a the thinly veiled threat Simon tensed and sat completely upright. "Where am I?",

"That is of no consequence", the familiar looking man said, before gesturing back to the American man. Simon noted he also spoke with a French accent.

"There is a criminal in your midst", the American began, "a murderer -"

"And a seducer of women" added the youngest man, who was also American. His statement earning him side-eyed looks from the others in the room.

Ignoring his companion's comment the American man continued, "we need your help to catch him - to set a trap". He then removed an envelope from his breast pocket and handed it to the confused bassoonist, "you are to wait until after the premiere, then hand this to Marguerite Giry at the gala. She must be alone when you hand it to her and tell her you were instructed she must open it alone".

Simon nodded in recognition once the letter was passed to him and placed it in his jacket pocket.

"Then", the man continued, "once she has left the room you are to hand this one to Destler. Again, it was given to you anonymously - but you were led to believe it was about a buisness transaction".

Simon nodded again, taking the second letter and placing it with the first.

"It should go without saying that this arrangement and this meeting is not to be discussed with anyone", the familiar looking man added, "otherwise I fear that your wife may find it difficult to care for your offspring".


	45. XLV: The Gala

A/N- super sorry for the delay - I'm back at work and it is really busy right now.

My final updates will take a bit longer because of work.

\--xxx--

Christine collapsed to the floor, her amber and red dress fanning out around her. Meg lurched forwards, only to be pulled back by a man in mucky green overalls whose hands gripped too tightly. The music swelled as the tenor ran on the stage and embraced his fallen love, reciting verses of regret and misery, his lament growing more distressed and discombobulated with each line. Then there was only darkness and silence, before a thunderous burst arose from the orchestra pit and there was sudden illumination. Christine arose as an ethereal figure in a white gown and sang an aria of forgiveness and eternal love, with a spotlight shining down upon her as though it was calling her to heaven.

When the silence once again decended across the stage Christine was surrounded by various members of the company showing appreciation for her talent. The crowd parted when Raoul and the managers joined them on stage, allowing Christine to envelop her husband in a running embrace, with him spinning them around excitedly. Of all the rehersals Raoul had watched this final one had truly shown his wife's talent; she had encompassed the role perfectly, her voice had been sublime and most importantly she was happy. Her enthusiasm and joy was unmissable and contagious: with members of the ensemble chatting loudly and passionately about tomorrow's debut m gala and Christine's power as the lead. Having seen his wife so enthralled by her craft, Raoul knew he could never deny it again.

Meg hung back and watched the crowd gather around Christine and then dissipate both upstage and into the wings once the managers and Raoul had appeared on the apron. She stood at the edge if the stage, ignored resigned to a place in the shadows behind Christine's shining light.

In the three weeks since Christine had joined the company she had rapidly returned to her former glory, and in Meg's opinion had far surpassed any performance she had seen before. Since her time in Paris it was clear Christine's voice had matured, and judging by her technical accuracy accompanied by her ever growing passion, Erik had obviously been tutoring her. Her friend had soon become a fond favourite of the cast and crew with many commenting on her hard work and kindness, especially showing admiration for her willingness to defy convention and perform.

Meg hated that she had spent many nights sitting in her flat and wondering what her colleagues would say if they knew the real reason Christine was performing, or that she had propositioned Erik in his own home. She had no intention of providing them with such details, but part of her resented the popularity Christine had among the company; Meg was increasingly treated like a parriah, and her friendship with Christine wasn't sufficient to ease the gossip.

Meg knew exactly what other members of the company were saying about her- their mutterings about the correlation between her relationships with both Erik and Gilles and her current position weren't well hidden. She wanted to be recognised for her skills and abilities, as she had often been sidelined over shone by others, and hoped that once she was in Russia her talent and abilities would be recognised.

\--xxx--

The moment Christine's aria had ended Erik had left the auditorium and made his way to Meg's dressing room. He had assumed watching Christine perform would have ignited his passion for his protégé, but as he watched and listened to her soar he felt an overwhelming sense of pride rather than desire. He was close enough to see the glint in her eyes as she sang and feel the sheer happiness that radiated from her as she performand; she was where she belonged and Erik felt a sense of accomplishment for having brought her there.

Meg Giry on the otherhand didn't seem to shine. Erik had written her role to demonstrate her diverse dancing and acting abilities, and although her technical execution was perfect she seemed to lack the passion that would normally have brought her character to life. He had given her directions, which she accepted diligently and without question, but she had retreated into the shadows becoming increasingly withdrawn after each rehersal.

"What are you doing here?" Meg asked when she saw the tall figure standing on the far side of her dressing room. She had been avoiding Erik, not because she felt uncomfortable, but because she needed to prioritise self-preservation. She had spent as many nights thinking of Erik as she had done Christine, and she had come to the realisation that she had loved the composer for longer than she realised. She thought back to the times her mother had chided her for the "childish infatuation" but also commended her for her kindness by putting Erik's safety above her relationship with Oliver. Of course, Meg had lied to protect Erik - she didn't want him to hang - but she could've explained the situation to Oliver and he probably would've accepted the web of deciet they had woven to protect him. Maybe she had started to develop feelings for Erik then?

She waited for him to turn to face her and provide her with a reason for his impromtu visit. Instead Erik remained still. His hands behind his back with his fingers interlaced.

"Accompany me to the gala tomorrow night" he stated, his words regretfully sounding like a command rather than request. He almost apologised for the faux pas because he didn't want to seem Phantom-esque in her company, but he didn'thave the opportunity.

"I can't. I am already accompanying someone", Meg replied apologetically, slowly approaching him. She was wary of him when his back was turned; she could tell he was anxious as he was standing to his fall height and his muscles seemed tense, but without seeing his eyes she found it difficult to read his emotions.

Erik chuckled slightly, "That idiot André I persume"

"You assume correctly". She replied placing a hand lightly on his forearm and tugging slightly. She knew she should have defended Gilles, but it had been weeks since she had been alone with Erik and she would rather not waste their time together speaking about him.

"Please look at me", she said with another tug of the arm.

Letting out a frustrated sigh Erik turned to face her. "You've been avioding me". Meg was still dressed in her costume, which was wholly inappropriate attire to be wearing alone in a man's company. The entire ensemble was black satin adorned with silver buttons, a high neckline but exposed shoulder, and most scandelously stopped at the top of her thighs, almost exposing her legs entirely.

Meg bit her lip in anxiety and made her way to the dressing table. It was inevitable that they would have this conversation, but she was hoping ot would have occurred after the gala rather than before. Erik quickly followed and then stood behind the dancer, with a silence engulfing them as their eyes met in the mirror.

"Why?", he asked placing his hands upon her shoulders, but removing them sharply when she broke their eye contact and looked away awkwardly. "Because I love you?", he stated flatly, "if that's the case then please forget I said anything".

"No", she responded firmly once again allowing their eyes to meet, "It is because I can't be a consolation prize. I deserve more then that".

Meg didn't know if Erik truly loved her, or whether his apparent feelings were a result of convenience and emotional exhaustion. She knew she loved him, and was certain he cared for her, but she also knew that he loved Christine with an uncontrollable passion. Meg needed to make Erik understand that the distance she had created between them was not to cause him pain, but rather prevent them both from getting hurt.

"You cannot love someone as fully as you love Christine and then suddenly stop. I know I am second to Christine in many ways, but I refuse to be second in someone's heart"

Erik stepped away from her and began to pace the room as a way to try and appease the growing adrenaline in his system. He flexed his fingers and smoothed his hair, yet he could feel the energy starting to flow through his body. He understood her concern, but it wasn't the case - she wouldn't be - couldn't be - second in his heart

Seeing the sudden change in her friend Meg continued, hoping to appease him. "Erik, you need to understand. I need to protect myself"

"From a monster like me", he spat turning on his heels to face her. His entire body language radiated rage, both directed at her and himself. He was foolish to believe that Meg's compassion and empathy had been real, that her kisses and caresses had been given willingly. She was no different than anyone else: she pretending to have been accepting of him, but she wasn't. He started pacing again and began muttering to himself, both cursing his stupidity for believing Meg was different, and then cursing himself for thinking poorly of her.

"A monster?", Meg said with a laugh, causing Erik to stop pacing and turn to face her sharply. Why was she laughing at him? "No, not from a monster", she continued quickly after seeing his expression, "I'm protecting myself from getting hurt. I've told you before, my heart can't take it"

Erik stood staring at her, his eyes begging for elaboration. She had told him that her heart "can't take it" several times, and it implied her feelings for him went beyond friendship, but he needed to be sure. When no elaboration came Erik went to her.

"Do you love me?", he asked, using his forefinger to tilt her head so she was looking at him. His eyes searched hers looking for any indication of her answer.

"Erik - please" she said in a whisper before turning her head away. She couldn't be under his scrutinising gaze, not now.

"Please what?"

She turned her head towards him again, her face filled with anguish. Her eyes were pleading with him not to press the issue, and although he didn't want to cause eher pain he needed to know the answer. He reached out to take her hand and guided her to standing.

"Do you love me?", he asked again.

When she didn't respond he stepped forward, running the back if his hand across her cheek before tipping her chin so their eyes met again. He decided in that moment to kiss her.

When their lips met Meg immediately threw her arms enthusiastically around Erik's neck to pull him closer: she wanted to be with him, but in equal measure she wanted to- needed to - protect herself. As soon as it began it ended, she placed her hands upon his chest and pushed him back, cursing her own foolishness for letting down her guard. She hoped he wouldn't notice that her voice cracked when she turned away from him and fought to hold back tears, "I can't. I'm sorry"

"I've told you before, there is no need to apologise", although he was dissapointed. He felt a sense of satisfaction regarding the exchange- Meg hadn't declared her love for him, but neither had she denied it.

"You many not be accompanying me tomorrow, but I brought you this gift for opening night" he added handing her a small black box, which she took tentatively with a small smile. Erik watched her as she opened the box and couldnt hide his smile when he saw her eyes light up when they saw the emerald necklace and earrings.

"I can't accept these Erik, it is too much"

"Nonsense", he said dismissively before checking the time on his pocket watch, "I'd

better be going now, or people will gossip",

Meg ran her finger over the largest emerald that adorned her newest procession and looked up at the composer with a coy smile and a slight shrug, "they already do".

\--xxx--

Christine had spent most of the gala night trying to find an opportunity to speak with Erik, but between the compliments and turns around the dance floor she barely had a moment to have a sip of champagne let alone a moment to slip away and have a private conversation with her tutor.

Reluctantly she had danced once with Firmin, twice with Gilles and countless times with Raoul. Her husband spun her around, causing her gown to gather at her feet and the pair of them to almost stumble.

Raoul laughed as they steadied themselves, saved by Christine's skills from years in the ballet chorus. "That is a very long dress"

"Don't you like it?", she asked nervously. She had chosen the deep blue dress, embellished with intricate silver beading creating a floral pattern intertwined with vines.

"Of course I do", he smiled, "you look beautiful. I am thenluckiest man alive", causing Christine to jokingly slap his arm before he led her to find refreshments.

"May I intercede?", Erik asked in a deep bow offering Christine his hand.

Raoul stepped forward to object by standing protectivly in front of his wife as though to shield her from Erik's advances. But Christine stepped round her husband and willingly took Erik's hand.

"I need to apologise to you", Christine said quietly as soon as they were out of earshot, "how I acted in your home was unforgivable".

Erik span her around as soon as the music started, and they engaged in the quintessential waltz of The Blue Danube, "I think you'd find that I am the one who needs to apologise to you"

"No - I should be thanking you. You gave me the opportunity to perform again"

"Hardly", Erik said with a scoff,

"Don't underestimate yourself Erik"

If Meg had made such a comment he would have retorted with a sarcastic quip reminding her that he never underestimated his abilities, but he had never been so candid with Christine. Instead he smiled down at her, "Thank you".

They danced in silence for the remainder of the composition, only returning to conversation once the coba started. As they moved around the room Christine could feel her husband's burning gaze fixated upon them, and when Erik pulled her closer she was certain Raoul would challenge him to a duel.

The couple danced slowly, occasionally registering the looks from guests and company members, with Christine Close enough to Erik's chest to feel his steady heartbeat. She tried to hide her dissapointment that their proximity failed to excite him by smiling broadly as she looked up at him.

"Do not worry Madame, I shall return you to your husband once 'An der schönen, blauen Donau' has finished"

"Oh - no - you don't need to. I am enjoying myself", she stuttered in panic. She had spent the majority of her time dancing with Raoul, and she wanted more time with Erik.

Althiugh the company had enthuasically welcomed her Erik had been somewhat detached. He continued to give her lessons, except they were now in the auditorium and the Persian sat at the of the house, and the directions he gave while she was onstage were impersonal and - at times - abrupt. She had expected to see adoration in his eyes when he looked at her, but instead she saw something else that she could not place.

"Very well", Erik said bowing to his partner before taking her hand to lead the 'Les Patineurs Valse'. He caught sight of the wide-eyed Vicomte de Chagny being calmed by André and gave bith men a curt nod. This only seemed to anger the Vicomte more, causing Erik to whisk Christine to the far side of the hall.

"I feel the need to apologise to you", Erik said as the second movement began, "and please don't object. I have treated you appallingly these last few years, and although I never intended you harm I know I have hurt you"

Christine didn't want to have this conversation, instead she wanted to dance with her tutor and pretend he had never been the elusive Phantom who committed unspeakable crimes. "Lets not talk of the past, only of the future. The past is forguveen and easily forgotten" she said with a smile. Previously such a smile would have melted Erik's heart and he would've bent to her will, her kindness and compassion was the epitome of her character and one of the reason he had fallen desperately in love with her.

"Thank you", he said with another spin, "now tell me what you plan for your future?"

"I wish to continue to perform, although I suspect it will be a necessity now Phillippe and his mother will severe Raoul's toes to the family estate". Erik smiled, Christinewas still niavë, unaware that discussing such things with someone outside of the family was uncouth. "But performing your work has reginiated my passion".

"You were divine. And you seem happier"

"Oh I am!", she exclaimed excitedly in a higher pitched voice than usual, "I feel enthralled and passionate and alive. I feel alive for the first time since Paris"

The music ended and as Erik took his bow Raoul snatched his wife's hand and hurridly guided her away to question her about their conversation.

Several of the ensemble members approached Erik in hopes he would ask them to dance, but he was distracted by the first bassoon handing Meg a letter and then her hurrying away.

\--xxx--

Meg read the letter that Simon Tannason had handed her for the third time as she walked to the prop room. She was confused; she recognised the handwiritng , but his presence made no sense. It made even less sense that he wanted to meet her in the prop room.

Her mother had told her never to go somewhere dark alone with a man, and that if she was.going somewhere with a gentleman always make someone else aware of your plans. She knew she should've told someone, probably Gilles, but her mind had been overcome with a heavy haze and her body went onto autopilot as she decended the stairs to the requested meeting place.

"Oliver?" she called as she entered the room and turned up her kerosene lamp. She knew form experience that these rooms recieved no natural light and that Firmin had decided it was a waste of money to fit them with electric lighting, and she didnt want to get lost in the dark.

"Meg!" came the voice of her former fiancé. She span round searching for him, and almost fell.iver whe he stepped from the shadows. The light from her lamp cast a shadow across half of his face, in stark contrast to the yellow glow, making him appear ominous.

"Oliver, you scared me!", she exclaimed. "Why are you here?"

"To forgive you for your adulterous behaviour". Meg almost corrected him. She hadn't committed adultery as they weren't married, but it probably wasn't the best time to be pedantic.

"You've travelled half way across the world to tell me that? Oliver that makes no sense"

"I want you to come back with me", Oliver said in a quiet voice stepping towards her and reaching for her hands. Meg stepped back sharply, her back coming into contact with the warm torso of another, much taller man.

In panic Meg span round, almost dropping her lamp, to be met with the face of a man she had almost forgotton: Detective Poole. Horrified that Oliver had lured her into the prop room to ambush her with an American detective Meg took several steps backwards. Her eyes scanned the room desperately for a quick way to the exit, but her lamp failed to provide enough light.

"Madomsille, no harm will come of you as long as you do as you're told", came the voice of Phillippe de Chagny. "Detective Poole, please restrain the girl before she drops the lamo and sets this whole place ablaze". Poole grabbed her wrists and secured her hands behind her back with handcuffs, then he forced her to sit on a chair facing the doorway.

\--xxx--

Simon Tennason waited as directed and then reluctantly approached Erik Destler. He could see that the composer was in deep conversation with the Vicomte, but it had been a man who looked like the Vicomte who had given him the instructions, therefore meaning the Vicomte probably knew about whatever was happening. He had handed him the note, forgetting what else he was meant to stay, and quickly retreated; now he could go home and make sure his wife and children were safe. He did feel some guilt, regardless of what other members of the company said about Meg Giry, he liked her. And Erik Destler was a genius, a strange man who judging by what was unfolding probably had a murky past, but he hadn't done anything to indicate to Simon that he was a bad person - grumpy: yes, strange: yes, but bad: no.

"Destler", Raoul said firmly. He was going to speak with him man-to-man, and now he had spare time as Christine was being occupied by Gilles. "I want to talk to you about your intentions for my wife"

"My intention was for her to perform again, now she is", he responded opening his letter and reading the contents quickly. "I must go now", he replied with a furrowed brow before hurridly heading towards the exit.

Raoul was intregued by this behaviour and started to follow him. The unlikely pair walked down into the storage area. Raoul didn't speak to Erik, but he knew he was aware of his presence; he wasn't trying to be secretive - in fact he hoped the muscian would notice his presnece so that he could continue to question him about Christine.

Eventually Erik stopped with a frustrated sigh, and without turning round he bid Raoul to be careful. The last thing he needed was to be accused of harming Christine's husband, he had toyed with her emotions and caused her more turmoil than someone should ever experience- certainly someone as kind and compassionate as her, he needn't be the cause if any more conflicts.

When Erik approached the prop room he signalled for Raoul to remain still and silent before crossing the threshold. But as soon as he did he felt a sharp pain across the back of his head and everything went black.


	46. XLVI: To sign or not to sign?

Christine had never felt comfortable surrounded by admirers,and now she was once again a star at a gala performance . She knew it was strange for a performer to become self-conscious following a show, but she had never desired to be centre stage and until Erik had become her tutor she would aviod the after show celebrations in favour of her own bed.

She had been happy to remain in the ballet chorus, but once Erik had begun to tutor her she became increasingly confident. Erik not only strengthend and honed her voice, he had made her believe she belonged centre stage; his persistent words of encouragement and continual adoration of her voice had made her feel more self-assured and deserving of the lime light. However, she didn't seek the adoration of others, as prima Donna's like La Carlotta did, there was only one person whose opinion mattered: Erik, her Angel of Music.

Throughout her time at the Populaire she had become increasingly enamoured with her tutor, finding both his voice and music enticing. Her main aim became to please him; if it meant practising until the early hours of the morning then she did, if it meant lying to Meg then she did, but once Raoul became a feature in her life everything changed; she didn't want to disobey her Angel, but she couldn't deny the feelings she had for her childhood sweetheart.

The months Erik had been absent from the Populaire had been some of the happiest in her life, not due to his absence but due to the uninterrupted time she had spent with Raoul. They had dined, danced, taken strolls and had picnics. During this time she had felt care-free, and recalled happier times when her father was alive and she and Raoul were children. Like the majority of the company Phillippe had assumed they were lovers, and although they had come close on several occasions Christine had remained chaste, and Raoul had never acted ungentlemanly towards her. It had been a joyful time full of daylight.

Once Erik had returned her life had been thrown into turmoil. He had an allure she couldn't explain, and their connection was profound. When he played or sang for her Christine would often find herself weeping due to the overwhelming flurry of emotions that would embrace her. His music permiated her very soul, it drew her to him like nothing she had ever experienced. His music had raw passion that simply couldn't be matched, but was emotionally and physically draining. Christine had felt that passion when she had performed earlier that night, and now she felt exhausted.

She stood by the wall waiting for Gilles to bring her a drink while she watched the gala attendees. It had been easy to forget the things Erik had done when they had danced together; the controlling behaviour, the atrocities he had committed in the name of love and his most recent ill-treatment all faded away when she was in his arms. In his presence he captivated her, they conversed easily and she was swept away in the familiarity of his voice. As she watched Erik aviod various patrons and female cast members she reminded herself of the severity of his past behaviour; the years of lying and manipulation, dictating who she was able to socialise with, and finally and her abduction had left her in a fragile state. For months after the confrontation in Erik's home Christine had woken distraught from her memories, particularly being forced into a wedding dress, often reaching for the laudenum when she was unable to return to sleep.

It hadn't been fear that plagued her dreams, it had been confusion. Erik had created a persona of an angel and for years he had been one of her only friends; she hadn't realised he loved her romantically until the final night under the opera house. She had known he was obsessed with her, but once she had discovered he was a man and not an angel she believed his interest in her was paternal. It had been the wedding dress that had made her realise..

When Christine had first been taken down below she thought she'd dreamed the mannequin with the wedding dress, clearly exhausted and overcome with emotion, but as she stood in his lair buttoning-up the bodice of said wedding dress she had began to cry. It hadn't been a dream, it was the product of a dangerous obsession and he was going to force her to be his wife. She became frantic with worry and fear that he would rape her, having been driven to the edge by Raoul's plan and the obvious inability to find a priest who would force a woman to marry someone who dragged her to the Chapel. It had been at that moment she'd decided to be strong; she had done men's bidding enough, and it was time for her to stand her ground.

Erik had seemed genuinely horrified when she had asked him if she was to be pray for his lust for flesh, and although she did feel pity for his childhood experiences, she refused to let that pity dictate her actions. She loved Raoul and would do anything to save him, so she made her choice. The whole affair had been exhausting, yet she had never felt more fatigued then she did now.

She was certain that part of her exhaustion was caused by Raoul's new exuberance. Since the Firmin incident he had become more assertive and the new found freedom from his mother's and Phillippe's influence had brought a change in him thay she found quite appealing. It had been Raoul's energy that had driven them round the dance floor, causing her feet to ache and her body to cry for her bed. She had been relieved when he had offered her hand to Gilles, as she knew the manager did not like to dance.

Once he returned the pair stood back and observed the guests, Christine catching sight of Meg speaking with Simon Tennason before she left the room and Gilles watching Richard Firmin with a guarded curiosity

"Meg's earrings and necklace are beautiful", she chirped with a knowing smile as Gilles handed her a flute of champagne. She hadn't had the opportunity to speak with Meg that evening, but she had caught sight of the deep green emerald pendant and matching earrings that complimented her dress exquisitely, and were clearly a gift from an admirer.

"Are they? I can't say I pay particular attention of women's jewellery", Gilles stated, clearly slightly confused by the statement.

Christine immediately felt embarrassed. She had assumed the set had been a gift from him as Raoul had told her that Gilles had romantic inclinations towards her. She would have normally have verbalise such an assumption, and hadn't intended on making the observation aloud. The onky justification she could think of for her faux pas was that she was fatigued and it was getting the better of her.

"Oh - I thought they were a gift from you. "

"No - it is inappropriate for a man to give a lady gifts when one isnt courting her", with a worried expression spreading across his face, "is she courting someone?"

"I thought you were courting", she lied.

"No. I haven't asked her. I was going to ask her to write when she goes to Russia," he said with a wistful smile before turning to her with a sombre expression , "is she courting someone?"

Christine shrugged, "I don't think so", she replied as she ran her finger along the lip of the glass. "You should ask Meg if you can court her. She deserves a good man"

Gilles smiled broadly before finishing his champagne. The Vicomtess was truly lovely and he fully understood why both Raoul and the Opera Ghost had fallen in love with her. Not only was she beautiful, with luscious curly hair, large eyes and a flawless complexion, she was also kind, generous and compassionate. He was about to thank her when he saw her watching her husband across the otherside of the room.

"Leave them be Madame. Your husband is only concerned for your safety"

Christine gave Gilles a side-eyed glance before shaking her head. "I have told him before; he doesn't need to protect me from Erik. Erik would never hurt me. He loves me"

Gilles took hold of her arm causing her to turn and face him, "that is why he wants to protect you. Surely you can understand he is concerned for your wellbeing?"

"Of course I do. But I can protect myself", she asserted - she had done it before when she had offered herself in exchange for Raoul - even if the men didn't believe she could do so. Gilles was about to speak but Christine cut him off, seeing the perfect opportunity to distract Raoul's friend and enable her to find out what her husband was doing.

"Oh Gilles, Monsieur Firmin looks ready to make a speech!", and upon hearing those words the manager darted in Firmin's direction to avert an ill-concieved monologue.

\--xxx--

Raoul had followed Erik out of curiosity and mistrust. He would never fully accept or believe that the Phantom did not have designs on his wife, and he wanted to make sure he was not creating an elaborate plan to steal her away.

As he had followed Erik into the storage areas of the theatre he had hoped the Opera Ghost would confront him, allowing for a more througher conversation about Christine, but instead he had merely acknowledged his presence and signalled for him to stay back.

Once Erik had disappeared into the prop room and then there was a load thud Roaul was about to run into the room. He may have had a deep mistrust for Erik but his natural instincts kicked in: he didn't want Erik hurt.

There was a slight tug on his arm, and he turned to see the face of his wife.

"Lotte, what are you doing here?"

"I followed you because I thought you were going to hurt Erik."

He let out hefty sigh. They would need to have another conversation about her feelings towards that man.

"Raoul, lets not argue. I love you, but Erik is very important to me."

"Shhh", he replied as he guided her to stand behind him before speaking a whisper, "we shall talk about Destler later. Right now I need you to stay behind me and remain out of sight"

\--xxx--

When roaul opened the door he was greeted by the sight of Meg Giry sitting on the floor and Destler tied to a chair, with his brother standing proudly behind them.

The moment Meg realised her friend's husband stood in the doorway she tried to stand calling out his name, but quickly lost her balance and returned to her awkward positioning on the floor.

"Phillippe, what is going on here?" Raoul asked approaching Meg with an out reached arm. He noticed Destler appeared unconscious, but rationalised the man was more then capable of.looking after himself, whereas Meg Giry would need his assistance.

"That man", Phillppe gestured wildly towards Erik, "and the harlot you married to have been intimate. You were lied to dear brother"

"That isn't true", Raoul stated in a matter-of-fact tone, having forgotten his intention to help Meg.

"He is a known seducer of women, wouldn't you say so?" Phillipe directed his question towards Oliver who eagerly agreed.

It was upon hearing Oliver's voice Erik opened his eyes. He had intended to feign unconsciousness for the duration of this conversation while formulating a plan to enable him and Meg to escape safely, but the surprise of hearing Meg's former fiancé's voice had caused him to alter his plan.

"Not only that, he is a murderer" Poole added, "and will pay for his crimes"

"But whether his latest tart pays for her crimes is upto him", the Doweger Comtess laughed from the shadows. Raoul wished he could claim he was surprised by his mother's presence, but he wasn't. He suspected this entire thing was her idea.

"Monsiour Destler, Phantome de l'opera, Mr Opera Gost, here is your choice: sign this stating you have had intimate relations with the Victomess de Chagny both before and after her marriage to my brother, and your little friend here", Phillppe gestured to Meg, "will not face punishment for her crimes"

"Mother - please - this is ludicrous" Raoul exclaimed, hoping his mother would see sense, "you know Christine was chaste when we married"

Erik's mind was racing. He had interfered with Christine's life for years;, tormented her, confused her, and toyed with her emotions. When they had danced earlier that night she seemed happed, and over the last three weeks when he had watched her interact with the Vicomte she was joyful and clearly in love. Could he destroy her world? If he signed the document then she would be homeless and shamed, but he could support her. He could be her knight in shining armour who came to her rescue. But is that what he wanted? Did he want to tear her world apart to suit his own desires?

On the otherhand Meg had sacrificed much for him. She had accepted him, travelled across the world to support him. Lied for him. She had helped him. In her presence he felt safe and like any other man.

Poole had handed Erik a pen and the document. He faced an awful dilemma: lie and destroy Christine's life, but save Meg. Tell the truth and destroy Meg's life, but save Christine's.

"Don't sign it Erik", Meg's voice interrupted his thoughts, "Christine deserves better".

Meg was right, Christine does deserve better. She deserved better than the Vicomte's family, but she also deserved happiness, and she seemed happy with her Vicomte. Meg also deserved happiness, he had treated her badly and wa scertain he was the cause of her pain. He couldn't subject her to time in prison and living a lifetime in its shadow.

His conundrum ended when Christine appeared in the doorway

"I'll sign it" she said firmly


	47. XLVII: The Orchestrator is revealed

When the Vicomtess entered the room Oliver took a step backwards, retreating further into the shadows between two rails of costumes. He hadn't been privvy to all of the Comte's plans, as far as he was aware their purpose had been to bring Destler to justice. He had been told that once the notorious criminal- who happened to be one of the most wanted men in France - was arrested, he and Poole would be able to collect the award from the French authorities and recieve an additional tidy-sum from the de Chagny's for their services.

When Meg had told him of her affair with Destler he had been heartbroken and confused. Erik Destler was an acquaintance of Meg's mother; he seemed younger, but was still much older than Meg. He was also hideous. Oliver couldn't understand how any woman could lie with such a man, but once he met the Comte de Chagny it all made sense.

Phillippe de Chagny had told Oliver how Destler had seduced his sister-in-law, bringing shame onto his family and dishonouring his brother. He explained how Destler would lure women to his bed with hypnotism woven into his music, and that he used the same method to make is work critical acclaimed and well recieved. The image of a recluse was a charade, designed to distract men from his real intention of seducing their wives and fiancées. He was a cad if the worst sort.

Upon hearing the explanation Oliver clung to the belief that Meg was a victim of Destler's manipulation and had eagerly agreed to help the Comte and his private investigator bring the man to justice. Knowing the curcumstances of Meg's sullying made it easier to forgive her. He was certain that once she was aware of Destler's actions, including seducing her married friend, she would forgive Oliver for his role in the plot. He would then use the reward and the payment from the Comte to provide Meg with the life she deserved.

As he stood in the shadows he surveyed the situation unfolding in front of him. It was clear that everyone else in the room, including Poole, knew more about what was occuring than he did. He didn't know his co-conspirators planned on making Destler sign a confession admitting the Vicomtess' infidelity, not did he know that Meg was going to be bound and face the possibility of goal. The younger gentleman, who he assumed was the Vicomte due to the resemblance to the Comte and Doweger Comtess de Chagny, looked at the Comte with pure unadulterated hatred, which only intensified when his wife had spoken.

Oliver could see that whatever plan the Comte and Doweger Comtess had - if the younger de Chagny brother had anything to do with it- it was going to go very very wrong.

He reached into his jacket pocket and ran his fingers over the contents - his insurance was still there.

\--xxx--

Phillippe couldn't hide his elation when Christine declared she would sign the confession. He knew his mother felt the same way as she tightly squeezed his foreman with excitement as her daughter-in-law spoke.

Although the entire affair had taken longer than he had planned, their family was finally going to be rid of the Daae girl and her negative influence on his brother. Once their marriage was annulled he could match Raoul with a suitable wife from their own social class. It wasn't that Phillippe was adverse to Raoul seeing the soprano as he had been continuing an affair with La Sorelli for years, it was that Raoul had married the woman rather than keeping her as a mistress.

He understood Christine's appeal; she was beautiful - breath-takingly so, kind, compassionate and had an enchanting voice. She would have made an excellent mistress, but not a wife. There would have been no shame in Raoul keeping Christine as his mistress, as long as he was discreet, but marrying the woman had caused headlines in the Parisian press and it was well-known the Vicomtess had some kind of relationship with the Opera Ghost. The papers had never directly stated that Christine and the Phantom had been engaged in illicit rendevouz, but it was well known among the patrons and company she had spent time alone with him in his lair, and the implication of such behaviour was clear.

The first stage of Phillppe's plan had been to convince Richard Firmin to join in his endeavour. The man's greed and general stupidity had been easily enough to manipulate; the only obstacle was Gilles André, but as he was also facing fiancial ruin he had diligently followed his buisness partner's lead - blissfully unaware that Phillippe was the one behind the entire escapade. It had been Phillippe who had planted the idea that Destler, Christine and Meg would generate gossip and ergo money - recalling the revenue created by La Carlotta's resignation and Christine's sudden departure at the Populaire.

He also knew that his brother's infatuation with Christine knew no bounds and that he would eventually defy the family and allow her to perform. He had been surprised by the length of Raoul's resolve and how long it had taken for him to finally disobey his family, but it didn't matter because he had played his role and Destler had come to England and been meeting the Vicomtess in private.

Then there had been Marguerite Giry. His spies had told him of the blossoming relationship between the dancer and Opera Ghost, and Firmin had been happy to encourage a triangle amoureux to further stir-up drama in hope of festering more gossip. That had been the easiest part of all; he knew show-people liked to gossip and Madomsille Giry's friendship with both men provided the perfect opportunity. A well placed whisper here, an off-handed comment there, and the ball was set in motion: Meg Giry was becoming ostracised by her peers due to their belief she was seducing her way to the top.

With Giry spending time alone it had been easy to lure her to the prop room, a simple note from her past fiancé was all it had taken. Oliver was a foolish boy in love with a women who no longer loved him, and if she did that love did not surpass her alliegence to the Opera Ghost. Phillippe found the boy's foolishness highly amusing, finding it hard to believe that Oliver thought that Meg Giry would welcome him with open arms once Destler was on goal due to his new found wealth; it was laughable as regardless of what the company believed, Meg Giry was not a social climber or loose woman.

Phillippe was satisfied with how the events had unfolded. He had successfully lured Destler to face justice, Christine Daae would soon sign away her title and gained wealth, and he had tricked Nadir Khan and Antionette Giry to travel to England so they could also face justice. Soon everyone who wronged his family and dragged their name through the dirt would be in goal.

\--xxxx--

Meg's knees and muscles were starting to ache from kneeling for too long, so she sat back in her heels hoping to stretch out her ankles.

She was willing to go to goal to protect Christine. The Comte and his mother were awful people, and she was fully aware of the turmoil the matriarch had put Christine through. Christine deserved better, and as long as Raoul was willing then she deserved to be free from the de Chagny's. She may have been resentful of Christine's success and spending more time in the shadows now they shared the stage once more, but she didn't want her to be unhappy.

She watched Erik's expression move from one of horror at the prospect of making a decision that would disadvantage one of the two the women, to one of shock when Christine had spoken.

"No", Meg asserted, using he theatrical training to project her voice, "do not sacrifice your happiness for me!"

"Happiness?", the Vicomtess turned to face her friend. "Does this look like happiness? Do you think I am happy being subjected to such ill treatment by my husband family?"

"Lotte", Raoul pled taking her hand to try and prevent her from approaching both Meg and Erik. "I know it isn't true"

Meg's mouth dropped when Christine's hand made contact with Raoul's cheek, the sound reverberating through the silent room. Her friend's eyes were alight with an unseen passion,

"How dare you!", Christine shouted at her husband, "how dare you say such things! Of course it isn't true. Do you think I would lie to you about such things? Do you think that is what this is about? I am admitting it so that I no longer have to be subjected to your family".

Meg's heart sank a little, she didn't want Christine to sacrifice her happiness for her, but she had hoped that sje had played a small part in her decision, afterall, she would happily face a goal term to keep her safe and happy.

"I would always choose you Lotte", Raoul stated gripping both of his wife's hands tightly. "Even if you sign it then I chose you. To Hell with the consequences!"

Christine felt her anger start to dissipate slightly as she saw her husband's resolve in his eyes. The moment was sharply broken by a gunshot reverbervating through the room.


	48. XLVIII: A sash and cravat pin

Raoul's reaction had been instinct. He pushed his wife aside and then there was a sharp sting in his thigh. He stumbled backwards trying to find some support, his arms flaying until he felt Christine's hand take his. He didn't hear the high pitched screams of the three women in the room, or Phillippe shout at Poole to apprehend the shooter. All he felt was the pain and then the fatigue.

Christine pulled Raoul towards her and grabbed her husband round his waist sinking to her knees, resting his head upon her lap. Raoul wasn't sure what she was saying or what was happening around him. He could smell iron and his trouser leg stuck to him as the warm sticky substance seeped from the wound. He tried to reach up and touch the injured area, but his limbs felt heavy causing him to collapse back against Christine.

"Help him Erik", Christine cried between her sobs, before turning and screeching at the two approaching members of the de Chagny family to stay away. She knew Erik was well versed in medicine and medical procedures, and he had indicated on several occasions that the majority of his knowledge was from the Middle East. As her pleas became more desperate, Erik reassured the dumbfounded Poole that he did have the skill to help the Vicomte and that he would be able to do this is he was untied.

It took Poole several moments to register what had happened. He hadn't thought Oliver was capable of such a thing; the man was clearly besotted with Miss Giry and hated Erik Destler, but he couldn't fathom why he had fired a pistol at the Vicomtess. He heard the Comte de Chagny issue the instruction to arrest the young man, but almost simultaneously the Vicomtess was pleading for Destler to be released to help her ailing husband.

Before making his decision he judged the situation: a bullet wound to the leg could be fatal, Destler was a dangerous man but the Vicomtess trusted him with her husband's life - yet the de Chagny's had indicated the two men hated eachother, and Oliver seemed confused and shocked by what happened. Deciding that Oliver posed no current threat, with the pistol dropped to the floor and the young clerk staring at his hands in disbelief, Poole untied Erik to allow him to render aid.

When he released Destler there was no objetions from the Comte and Doweger Comtess, both remaining focused on their injured family member. The Doweger had collapsed to the floor in a hysterical state, with her eldest son attempting to comfort her while struggling to maintain his air of authority. It was strange how death made everyone equal.

Unbound and released from handcuffs Erik had a few seconds to decide how.to act: if he remained and helped the Vicomte he would likely be arrested, but he was being a better man- the man Meg believed him to be and the man Christine deserved him to be, but he would likely be executed when all was done. His other option was to use the opportunity he had been granted to run - something he had been doing his entire life - Meg and Christine would hate him, but he would be alive.

Christine was stroking Raoul's hair and whispering words of reassurance when Erik came to her side and demanded she hand him her sash. Confused she did as instructed. Erik quickly wrapped the sash around Raoul's injured leg, just above the wound, and pulled tightly. Even in the dim light of the gas lamps he could see the Vicomte's skin had become pale and grey, and in desperation he pulled the sash tighter.

"This will slow the bleeding", he stated, before removing his cravat pin. "Meg, help Christine".

On queue Poole pulled Oliver by the arm across the room with him so that he could free Meg. The man was in such a daze by the events that were unfolding - and that he had shot someone - he willingly followed.

"It was meant to be her", Oliver muttered as Meg passed him gesturing his head in Christine's direction.

On Erik's instruction Meg helped Christine stand before embracing her and maneuvering so that Christine had turned away from the scene. She gave Erik a questioning look, with Erik's response indicating he didn't know if the Vicomte would live.

Meg had seen the moment of hesitation in Erik's eyes as he analysed the situation and made his decision. She assumed he was deciding whether to help Raoul or try and escape, but even if he wasn't certain of the path he would chose - Meg knew. She knew it would break his heart to see Christine in mourning, even though it would grant him another opportunity to pursue her, and she also knew that he was a different man to the one who presided under the opera house and had ended many lives. She hadn't breathed a sigh of relief when he had taken Christine's sash, nor had she doubted his efforts when his worried expression had told her he was unsure as to whether the Vicomte would survive.

Meg pulled Christine tighter when Raoul let out an ear piercing scream as Erik plunged his cravat pin into the wound. She had watched Erik heat the pin in the open flame of the gas lamp before he had used it to sear the Vicomte's flesh, and although she didn't know what he was doing or why, she accepted that he was working in Raoul's best interests.

Erik had warned Raoul before he had plunged the scolding pin into the open wound. He knew it wasn't thick enough to cauterise the whole thing, but if it was in the correct location it would stem the bleeding and possibly save Raoul's life.

\--xxx--

Almost an hour had passed since Gilles had last seen Raoul and Christine, even longer since he had seen Meg and Destler. It pained him to admit it, but he was certain that Meg and Destler were engaging in a private randevouz. He had long suspected that Meg's feelings for the composer went beyond friendship - he had seen the looks that passed between them and was aware if various private exchanges the couple would share.

He was eager to find her even if she had spent the majority of the evening in Destler's company, and planned to ask her permission to correspond once she arrived in Russia. He hoped that separation from Destler and his influence would soften her heart towrds him and she would accept that In any relationship with Destker she would be second best, but with himself she would come first.

Gilles qas pleased the Vicomtess had warned him of Richard's imminent speech and he had managed to avert the event by engaging in mind-numbingly boring discussions about the exuberance of the European Royal families. Eventually, when it seemed Richard had bored enough people and the pair were alone Gilles finally addressed his partner's expressive and joyful mood:

"Why exactly are you so exuberant tonight Richard?", Gilles asked nervously, dreading that the man had another plan to trap Destler

"It is gala night André!", he exclaimed waving his champagne flute causing the liquid to spill, "a night of celebration. One could ask why you are not so happy"

Gilles responded with a shrug. He wasn't unhappy but his mind wa splashed with thoughts of Meg in Destler 's arms.

"One does assume your mood is related to Madomsille GiRyan- but - worry not old friend! After tonight she shall be free"

"Free from what?", Gilles responded his interest sparked.

"Destler of course. It is clear he has played his tricks and lured her to him. But after tonight we shall be rid of him, the gossip will flow like fine wine and we will be very wealthy men!", he almost sang before he took a long sip from his glass, "and - Giry will be yours",

Gilles had been unsure how to proceed. He had considered that Destler had used hypnosis or manipulation to further his relationship with Meg, but he believed Meg's assertion that although they had been engaged it was an arrangement for convenience rather than love. He knew Meg had feelings for the composer, but if Destler wasn't on the scene it was possible she would be willing to court him, which is why he hoped to establish correspondence with her.

"Are you drunk old friend? Marguerite and I are friends - nothing more"

"Because of Destler", the stout man replied, "not to worry, when the de Chagny's are done Destler won't even be in this country"

Panic rose in Gilles. Something was happening and he knew Meg's absence meant she was involved. He doubted Raoul would be engaged in anything underhand, evenlmthough he did hate Destler, menaing that the term 'de Chagny's' could be applied to the Comte and Doweger Comtess.

"Richard: explain what you mean".

\--xxx--

After Richard had told him what was unfolding in the prop room Gilles had hurried to the scene only to witness a horror unfolding in front of him.

Destker aas crouched over Raoul, Meg was embracing the Vicomtess, the Doweger Comtess was on he Renee's sobbing while the Comte was trying to comfort her, and there were two men standing dumbfounded and staring blankly at the puddle of blood around Raoul.

When Erik noticed the manager standing open mouthed he instructed him to fetch a doctor as the Vicomte was bleeding heavily. It didn't take him long to find a doctor amoung the gala attendees, but it did cost him a substantial sum to buy the doctor's silence.

He had stood motionless as he watched the Victomess cling to her husband's hand before being pulled away again by Meg. He listened to Destler explain how he had tried to cauterize the wound, and although the doctor seemed impressed it wa obvious he was worried about the Vicomt's ability to survive.

As soon as Destler had stepped away from the ailing Vicomte the Doweger Comtess was demanding the police be summoned, while the Comte was trying to calm her and persuade eher such rash actions weren't needed. He wondered whether Phillippe de Chagny's decision was due to a hmgenuine beleaguered or whether ot was part of a larger plan.

Gilles didnt know who the other two gentleman were:m, but he assumed one was a police offer and the other Raoul's shooter. No one qas paying the cuffed man any attention, but Gillea heard the young man ramble about how everything was the Vicomtess' fault and how everything would have been resolved if she had been the one who had been shot.

The man continued to explain that it was the Comtes obsession with Victomess' that had driven them to this point. Everything that had happened was because the Comte wanted Christine out of his family- it was because if that the Vicomte had travelled to the USA, it was because of the threat of Destler's identity being revealed that Meg had defended him, it had been because of the Victomess that Meg had been brought to the prop room and bound. .

Gilles understood the man's logic, he wanted Meg to be free, but Christine would hardly be blamed for the obsessive and judgemental nature of her husband's family. Raoul had defied them all by marrying Christine, but it was his family who were affronted by Christine's not Raoul's behaviour. It seemed that Raoul's defiance would easily be forgotten, but Christine's presence was apparently harder to forgive.


	49. XLIX: Spousal Privilege

**_A/N - sorry for the delayed update. I've been treading water a bit over the last week and have been feeling rough from having my flu jab._**

**_I hope you guys like _****_this chapter and it was worth the wait_**

\--xxx--

Oliver had effectively been a prisoner in Erik's home since the might he had shot Raoul de Chagny. He hadn't intended on shooting anyone - he had brought the gun to protect himself from Destler - but as everything unfolded he felt a surge of anger directed towards the Vicomtess.

If it hadn't been for the Vicomtess marrying the Vicomte against his family's will then none of the events he had been subjected to would have happened. He would have been happily married to Meg and they would likely have been starting a family, instead he had become a laughing stock amongst his colleagues and family and had been publicly embarrassed by the woman he had loved.

Oliver didn't want Meg to go to gaol and based upon what the Comte and Detective Poole had told him he thought Destker wouldn't have allowed it, but seeing the ultimatum out before the composer he realised it was likely that Meg would be sacrificed for the Vicomtess' happiness - and he simply couldn't allow that to happen.

Both Poole and the Comte had underestimated him; Oliver had done extensive research on Destler - also known as the Phantom of the Opera and the Opera Ghost - and he had learnt quickly the man was obsessed with Christine de Chagny née Daae, and had brought a chandilier down onto the stage as revenge for the managers not following his instructions. There was no way that Destler would put Meg above the Vicomtess, so in Olivers mind the easiest option was ti remove the Vicomtess as an option.

On terms of his current state of captivity the young clerk couldn't really complain. The room to which he was confined was more ornate and luxurious than any other room he had stayed in. There was a large bed, large sash windows - that the English seemed to like - and heavy curtains that ensured the room was dark at night. The furnishings were all comfortable and his host had ensured he had a selection of fiction and non-fiction to read. He also appeared to have ordered the servants to bring him the daily paper each morning when they served him breakfast, which he appreciated as he felt the need to know what was going on in the world outside of his room. As of yet he hadn't seen an obituary for the Vicomte de Chagny, which meant he wouldn't be hanged for murder- but he was also aware that if the Vicomte's injury became infected he could still face the noose.

He wasn't sure if Destler was protecting him from the de Chagny's or holding him on their behalf. He knew the Vicomte and Destler were effectively mortal enemies, therefore it would make sense for Destler to be protecting him, yet he had helped save the Vicomte which indicated that he may be assisting the de Chagny's with whatever plan they had for him. One thing he knew for certain was that Detective Poole was in the de Chagny's payroll and Poole was the person standing guard outside of his room.

\--xxx--

As the train pulled out of the station Meg found it difficult to hide her excitement. Her mother would not hesitate to to voice her dissaproval of her spending the day at the seaside with an unmarried man for fear her fear of the impact it would have on her daughter's reputation, but Meg had made the decision that she would enjoy her self without worrying about other people's perceptions, afterall, she could soon be in gaol.

When the skyline and smog of London began to fade the view from the carriage window was the rolling hills of the English countryside and fields filled with livestock and crops. This was the England her escort Elisabeth had romanticised; the autumn colours of deep greens, browns and oranges exentuated the beauty of the countryside. The landscape and colours reminded her of northern France, with the occasional idyllic village along the line. When she had travelled to London from Liverpool Erik had told her the British railway network was incredibly extensive for such a small country as their government had embraced the age of steam and expanded exponentially. There were still canals in the North of England and throughout the Midlands, but they were primarily used for freight rather than travel.

Gilles had purchased them both first class tickets rather than third and the pair were glad the held sole occupancy of the carriage. Being a weekday there were very few people making the journey from London to the coast, and he had been pleased to find that many of the rural stations en route had been empty of passengers - meaning he and Meg had a compartment to themselves for the entire journey. He found her enthusiasm for the journey interesting, and studied her carefully. When the train pulled into each station she would avidly look out of the window in anticipation of seeing the rural station and its staff. On several occasions she had commented on the difference in dress of those waiting at the platform and those in London, and the beauty of the passing landscape. Since he had come to know Meg while in England he had become increasingly accustomed her presence in his life - he qas secretly please she wouldn't be leaving for Russia as it would allow him to foster a closer relationship with her and her mother.

With every passing day Gilles had become increasingly concerned that Meg would be arrested for her role in assisting Destler, and now she was no longer travelling to Russia he knew her freedom was subject to the whims of the Comte and Doweger Comtess de Chagny.

He had comforted her when she had realised her job offer was a rouse created by the Comte to lure her mother and the Persian to England, and they intended.on having Meg and Erik arrested.before storming into Erik's home to arrested his guests. As Meg had cried in his arms Gilles.found he wanted to protect her, and so he had made his decision.

"Lets go on a day trip to Brighton" he had offered as he wiped the tears from her eyes. It was an instinctive action, but one that had overstepped the lines of familiarity. He had frozen at the thought if her rejecting him, for it had been a spur ofnthe moment action and offer, but if she was offended by his proximity she hadn't shown it.

"A day at the seaside would be wonderful", she had gasped between sobs, clutching onto his hankerchief as though her life depended on it, "I've never been to the coast"

Which was how they ended-up travelling first class to Sussex.

The couple spent the day walking along the promenade and sitting on the beach, before they took a stroll along the Palace Pier and had a drink in the ballroom café. After lunch Meg stood upon one of the lowest railings looking down into the sea and watched some children paddling, and the large wooden bathing machines being wheeled into the sea. She wished she had thought of purchasing a bathing dress, as some of the white cotton outfits and bobbled hats seemed much more appealing then then her heavy skirts

"Be careful. I can't swim", he joked, removing his top hap and placing it under his arm.

"What would you do if I fell? Would you allow me to drown Monsieur Gilles André?", she replied gleefully

"If you fell I would have no choice but to jump in after you", he responded, "but I fear we would both perish".

Meg didn't speak, but instead turned away to face the ocean with a broad smile as she thought about her friendship with Gilles. Her life had taken a strange turn of events since Paris; she had been engaged twice- once to a man obsessed with her best friend and the other to a man who shot her best friend's husband, she had become fluent in English and had developed a complicated relationship with the Opera Ghost. She wasn'ta fool, she knew she loved Erik and she was certain his feelings for her were more than platonic- he may even love her in his own way - but she knew she deserved more than to be someone's second choice. Her love for Erik was as complicated as the man himself; part of her saught his approval due to his genius and she put it down to her admiration of a highly talented man, her stomach did flips everytime he declared his love, but her mind constantly reiterated that she wasn't Christine and she would always be in her shadow, and part of her disliked him for the way he had treated both her and Christine - playing with both of their emotions for his own gain. Erik was a volitile and passionate person who wanted to be loved and accepted, whose life experiences and rejection had driven him to the darkest places a man could go, but he still saught redemption through love.

ccc

Then there was her friendship with Gilles, which had arguably been a more surprising development. When she had been a member of the Garnier's ballet chorus she'd considered Gilles a bumbling idiot. It had been clear to the entire company that Monsieur Firmin was the dominant character in the partnership and although Gilles clearly had more passion for the arts than his compadre, it was Firmin's fianicial drive that had caused the confrontation between the managers and Erik. Meg had believed them to be foolish to ignore her mother's advice to listen to the Opera Ghost and not to goade or force his hand, yet now she had developed a firm friendship with the meekest one.

Erik had developed a kind of obsession with her friendship with Gilles, often making references to the manager's apparent desire for a less platonic relationship and speaking in a condescending tone or sarcastic manner when referencing him. Erik's continued comments had made Meg wonder about the nature of her friendships with both men; it was unusal for women to have such friendships and she knew that was what had fostered the gossip among the company, but she couldn't bare not spending time with either of them.

Gilles, unlike Erik, was a middle-class gentleman, who knew how to appropriately interact with people. He was also unlike Oliver, who was a bit rough around the edges. She found Gilles to be

extremely pleasant company and although she had subjected him to her changing moods and pining over Erik, he remained steadfast in their friendship. He had allowed her to cry on his shoulder while mourning her lost future, accompanied her on walks and outings, defended her virtue and not once had he acted inappropriately towards her. She often wondered whether he believed they were courting: was that how middle-class gentlemen courted women?

"Are you having a nice day?", he asked as he leaned against the railing next to her,

"It is wonderful", she smiled recalling sitting on the promenade eating fish and chips while trying to shield their food from seagulls, "I wish every day was as enjoyable as this one"

"I would do all I can to ensure that", Gilles said nervously as he removed the small gold object in his best pocket, "I would do everything in my power to make you happy Marguerite Giry - if you let me."

\--xxx--

As Erik ascended the stairs, allowing his fingers to lightly graze the bannister, he felt a strong sense of resentment begin to seep into his veins. The stairway was lined with portraits of people Erik did not know, but the resemblance to the Vicomte caused him to assume they were his relatives. If they had been portraits of his long-dead family members Erik would have used them as fuel for the hearth in a symbolic gesture to represent severed ties and turn his past into dust. Although it hadn't been confirmed, he assumed the Vicomte had severed ties with his family die to their treatment of Christine.

In the days since the Vicomte's shooting Erik had spent much of his time alone in a pensive state. He hadn't composed, which was his normal outlet, nor had he saught solace with Meg or guidance from Nadir. He had watched Christine teeter in the edge of madness as her husband lay dying on the prop room floor, her eyes desperately pleading for Erik to help his adversary survive. There were several moments where she had become hysterical, and Erik feared that her behaviour would cause the de Chagny's to strip her of her name and fortune if the Vicomte passed; it would be easy for them to send her to an asylum or the work house with the influence their wealth could buy. Luckily Meg had intervened before he needed to by offering words of reassurance and a gentle guiding touch.

Once he reached his desire destination the servant escorting him rapped on the door in three successions before he was awarded entry, and after speaking with his master he directed Erik to enter.

Erik had assumed the Vicomte's room would have been simular to Christine's, minus the cosmetics, but he was wrong. The Vicomte's bedroom walls were covered in a deep red barqoue wallpaper, with various pieces of artwork lining the walls. On the mantle there was a small replica of a naval vessel (Erik didn't care to discover which one) and a free standing photograph of himself and Christine on their wedding day. There were many features of the room Erik found pleasing, surprised by its difference to the rest of the house.

Across the room from the door, sitting up in a large four poster bed, was the Vicomte de Chagny. Erik felt the surge of resentment return when he saw that the youngest de Chagny son remained conventionally attractive even when he had pale skin and had lost weight - the man was everything Erik wasn't, and that was painful for him to admit.

Sitting at the Vicomte's bedside was Christine. She had been holding Raoul's hand when Erik entered, onky removing it when she stood to greet their guest.

"Oh Erik, I'm so glad you came", Christine exclaimed embracing him tightly, "we weren't sure you'd accept the invitation". Then she lowered her voice and leaned closer to her mentor, "we were worried you'd think it a trap".

He fought the desire to smile at Christine's continued naivety; of course he had considered whether it was a trap. He had conducted several recon observations before deciding to accept the invite. Fighting the urge he instrad chose to wave his hand dismissively and off-handedly commented that it would be easy to escape from such a poorly protected domicile.

"Monsiour Destler, it is a pleasure to see you well", Raoul commented from the bed, reaching out his hand in a gesture of friendship towards his guest.

"Vicomte, I am please you are recovering well" Erik said with a curt nod hoping the injured man wouldn't leap out of bed to attack him in retaliation for his wife's embrace.

"I feel grand Monsiour - thanks to you. After all we've been through I must insist that you must call me Raoul". His words held sincerity, and although the man's perfect teeth annoyed him Erik knew what decorum dictated in response.

Reluctantly Erik responded in kind, offering the Vicomte the same familiarity.

Much of Erik's visit felt awkward. Raoul repeatedly thanked Erik for his intervention and apologised for his family. He eagerly shared details of his brother and mother's failed visits, and the joy he felt when the servants had turned them away at the door. Erik was pleased Raoul was ignoring his family, after everything they had subjected Christine to they needed to suffer, but it probably wasn't the wisest move.

"Although I respect your decision to distant yourself from your disgraceful family", Erik stated as he straighted his waistcoat and checked the time on his pocket watch, "it would bode well if they were not too displeased"

"And why is that?", Raoul asked in a raised voice, pushing himself further upright in a subconscious attempt to give himself greater presence, "and are we keeping you" he referenced to Erik's rude behaviour of checking the time in his host's presence.

"because they can easily have myself and Marguerite thrown in gaol. Do not forget that Madomsille Giry could also face the noose". His comment had the desired effect when he heard Christine's sharp intake of breath, "and as for keeping me - no, not yet - but I have a dinner engagement I do not wish to miss".

Christine had become accustomed to Raoul's sleeping patterns; he would be awake for a couple of hours before needing to recuperate, but each day the length of time he was awake and the activities he could undertake were increasing. She knew Erik was uncomfortable with small talk, and although both men were trying to engage one and another in polite conversation she could see how both men were becoming frustrated. Eager to Foster good relations between the two she finally interveened by instructing Raoul to rest.

Erik followed his protégé onto the landing fully expecting to be led to the parlour or drawingroom, instead she paused outside a guest bedroom before taking his hand and pulling him sharply inside. Erik stood stoicly, his mind rushing with confused thoughts and feelings: he had accepted that Christine was deeply in love with the Vicomte- Raoul - the way she had responded when he lay dying, her gentle manestrations as she comforted him in his bed, all told him that she was very much in love. He had reflected upon his behaviour at the popular and had come to realise that Christine had loved Raoul before he had even known her, she had been happy in his company, and when he had asked her to marry him on the roof of the opera house she had been beyond ecstatic. The love Christine had for Raoul was obvious and it had become clear the Vicomte loved her in equal measure: he had become involved in André's and Firmin's plan in an attempt to secure funds to free himself from his fiancial dependency on his family.

"Do not worry Erik, I am not going to proposition you again", she said as she leaned against the door as though doing so would create an extra barricade from prying ears. "I haven't had the chance to thank you for saving Raoul", before she began to shift awkwardly. "The way I treated you was wrong, and I must thank you for refusing me and preventing me from committing an act I would always regret"

"You have already thanked me, you do not need to do so again". He noticed the clock upon the mantle and began to become restless; he was going to be late.

"But I do", she continued oblivious to Erik's eager desire to leave, "I have come to realise that I was unhappy for several reasons; I was not a successful society wife, I had no children and I couldn't perform. I was trying to conform to a world I didn't want to be part of"

"Best to try, otherwise you could end up living in the sewers beneath an opera house"

She shot him an annoyed glance, which quickly softened to one of concern. Christine slowly stepped towards him with an outstretched hand to offer comfort and reassurance.

"It was a joke - and a bad one", Erik quickly added when he saw her concern, "you deserve to be happy and I am afraid I have prevented that for far too long"

"I shan't lie Erik, you have caused me pain and torment, but no more than Raoul's family. Almost losing Raoul made me realise that without him my world would end. I was willing to live without him knowing he would be able to find another wife who was better suited to someone of his status, but I couldn't live a life knowing he was gone because of me."

"I wouldn't have been because of you Angel, it would have been because of that boy Oliver and your husband's family"

"Raoul doesn't blame Oliver", she said sitting on the bed and looking at her hands, "but he does blame his family", then with a heavy sigh she continued, "if he hadn't married me then none of this would have happened".

"And if you hadn't met as children none of this would've happened", he replied as he moved to sit beside her. "I decided long ago to accept that we cannot change our past. Someone told me that we are products of our experiences, and I have come to agree. We cannot live thinking 'what if', 'I should have', or 'I could have'. I for one have spent far too many days and nights contemplating such things".

The couple sat in a awkward silence, neither certain of how to continue, but both aware that something unsaid remained between them.

"I didn't realise how much I missed human interaction until I met you", Erik finally admitted.

"I didn't know how much I loved performing until I met you", Christine stated, "I've spent many a night wishing you had never heard me sing, then regretting such thoughts. Until I met you I felt like I was drowning in obscurity"

"And until I met you I believed I had no future".

"Erik please don't", Christine began. She didn't want Erik to continue to pursue her. Almost losing Raoul had shaken her very being, but she hated causing Erik pain.

"Allow me to finish", he stated without turning to look at her, "you gave my music a voice - a voice I never believed it would have - you showed me compassion and granted me my first kiss. Did I ever tell you my mother never kissed me?",

Christine shook her head in response, unsure if he saw.

"Seeing the love you and your Vicomte shared made me jealous. I had never experienced love and believed I never would. I was overcome with emotion, angry that your Vicomte was everything I never could be and everything I had wanted, and then he was taking you from me".

"I wasn't your procession" Christine stated flatly, "I am the orchestrator of my own destiny"

"No, you weren't, and yes you are. But I felt like you were mine - I had shaped your voice and provided you with comfort. I believed what I felt for you was romantic love. I would have done anything for you, but that isn't love...at least it isn't the type of love I believed it to be. You taught me that"

Erik stood and checked the time with his pocket watch one more time. He would be late if he didn't leave soon, but this conversation was far too important to end abruptly.

"Are you saying you no longer love me?" she asked nervously. It was a dangerous question; she would be hurt if he didn't love her but at the same time she wanted him to be happy, and she had no intention of betraying her husband.

"I do love you, but I see how much you love your Vicomte - it was wrong of me to try and destroy that love"

"I'm sorry Erik", she said quietly, "I'm sorry I don't love you the way you want. But please believe me when I say I do love you. I love you in a simular way that I love my father"

"I understand - and you don't need to apologise - I have come to a simular conclusion. I think the love I feel for you is more paternal than romantic, although I can't be sure as I have never experienced paternal love", Erik paused momentarily considering whether he should voice his deduction, "Your Vicomte will make a wonderful father- I am sure of it".

Christine wasn't entirely surprised by Erik's supposition, especially as she didn't know much about his past experience with such matters. She had been anxious about his possible reaction, but as she quietly stood and approached him she failed to notice any indicator of anger or malice.

"Over the last two months you have been looking increasingly fatigued, and I noticed how exhausted you were after every performance, he stated matter-of-factly. "I wasn't certain until I saw you today".

Christine lightly touched his forearm, causing him to turn and see her looking at him quizzically.

"Your face is fuller - rounder", Erik stated and he took her hands "I don't mean to insult you, I am merely stating a fact"

"I know", she responded with a smile. His actions were quickly easing her anxiety.

"Congratulations my Angel - you will make a wonderful mother".

\--xxx--

Erik cursed the inconvenient location of the de Chagny home and his own foolish pride fo refusing the Vicomte's offer of use of their carriage. He had managed to find a cab, but he was still going to be late and the gentleman he was seeing charged by the hour.

When Erik arrived at the restaurant he was relieved to see the stout gentleman waiting for him, but was less then pleased to see an empty whisky tumbler and a half drunk bottle of wine on the table - two things he would be fitting the bill for.

After being shown to the table Erik's solicitor stood abruptly and outstretched his hand in a greeting.

Erik removed his gloves placing them neatly on the table. He had never been keen on human contact, as it always led him down a dark path. First his mother refused to touch him, then his hands committed great sin against others in Persia, and his desire for female touch had driven his decent into madness. Reluctantly he briskly shook the gentleman's hand, fighting the urge to immediately wipe it against his trousers as though such an action would distance him from society.

"I have some changes I need to make" Erik stated as he poured himself a glass of wine, "and then we need to discuss Marguerite Giry".

\--xxx--

It was gone 10pm when Erik snuck into Meg's flat. He had been surprised to find the dancer asleep on her settee, with a book having fallen on the floor, rather than in her room. She had clearly fallen asleep reading, so he picked the book up, ensuring that all pages were smoothed and not folded, and then put it on the side table.

He was sure how long he had watched her sleeping, her blonde hair loose and slightly tangled from her unnatural positioning. He reached out and moved a few straps from her face, revealing in their softness. He allowed his finger to lightly brush the outline of lips and cheeks, momentarily considering kissing her before regretting the decision as it would mean taking advantage of her unconscious state.

He was about to carry her to her bedroom, knowing the blankets would be warmer her her bed more comfortable, as she stirred. Seeing a dark figured standing over her she immediately sat up and screamed, scrambling backwards in an attempt to distance herself from the intruder.

"shhhh Meg", Erik hushed stepping closer and placing his finger against his lips, "it is only I"

"Erik? What are you doing here? Why have you snuck into my home?", she asked as the fear that had once overtaken her left her and she started to relax.

"I have a solution to our problem"

"our problem?", she asked confused.

"Yes. That you may be sent to gaol or even -", he paused not wanting to say it, " - face the executioner for helping me"

"I've told you, I won't say anything incriminating. You can trust me", she said as she reached forward and took his hands, leading him to sit next to her.

"I know", he started, but was interrupted by a female voice calling through the door after having heard Meg scream.

"Miss Giry, are you alright?", came a high pitiched female voice from the other side

Meg stood and wrapped herself in a blanket. She wanted her neighbour to believe she had woken from a bad dream, so she ruffled her hair and pulled the blanket tighter to hide that she was still in her day clothes. She indicated to Erik to move out of eyeline of the door before she opened it slightly.

"I am fine Sarah, I had a bad dream". It took several minutes to convince the woman to leave, she had offered Meg tea and the option to sleep in her flat, but finally she had accepted Meg's independence and reassurances, leaving the blonde apparently alone.

Once back on the settee, with Erik by her side, she waited patiently for him to continue.

"I know you wouldn't willingly betray me, but I have a way to ensure you can be arrested".

Erik removed a small black box from his coat pocket and placed it in Meg's hands, enclosing his around hers.

"It is called spousal privilege. If we are wed then you cannot legally give evidence against me. You will be safe".

Meg pulled her hands away quickly, as though she had been burnt, and held them.close to her chest

"Erik - ",

"Before you say anything Marguerite, please believe me when I say I love you. This may be a proposal born of necessity, but it is something I desire and I want more then I can express. When I am with you I feel whole, I feel accepted and I feel like any other man", Erik then maneuvered himself to his knees in front of her, "I beg for your forgiveness for how I have treated you. Be my wife - please"

Meg turned her head away form her friend as she fought back tears.

"Marry me. Be my wife. You will be safe, and I can die happy"

"I want a marriage born out of love", Meg replied without facing him knowing if she did her resolve would crumble, "and you love Christine"

Erik stood and took her hand, "I do, but not as I love you", he pled, "spousal privilege will keep you safe. I need you to be safe".

Meg finally turned to face him. "Someone else has asked for my hand, and I think I'm going to accept".

\--xxx--


	50. L: Charity, debt and reparations

**_AN - thank you to bonpetitpoodles and badpixie06 for the reviews. Sorry bonpetitpoodles I didn't write a note of thanks last time._**

**_Anyway, sorry this took much much longer than usual, but I've uploaded the penultimate chapter._**

\--xxx--

Christine hadn't experienced many pregancy symptoms apart from fatigue (and apparently becoming fuller faced), but the morning after Erik's visit the smell of breakfast made her stomach churn.

Raoul had only recently started taking breakfast and lunch in the dining room as a way to try and increase his mobility. The doctor had suggested he take some air at the seaside - recommending the Sussex towns of Eastbourne and St. Leonards - but he was reluctant to travel when any prolonged immobility caused the muscles in his injured leg to stiffen and become painful. The south coast wasn't particularly far from London, but the thought of spending two hours on a train made him feel remarkably uncomfortable.

As part of Raoul's recuperation Christine had directed the cook to make whatever breakfast her husband requested, and that moaning it was poached egg with smoked salmon. Christine poked at the egg with her fork, its wobbly movements churning her stomach, before piercing the white and allowing the yolk to ooze onto the plate. She had hoped such an action would result in a reduction of the poignant smell of the salmon, but instead it made her feel worse. She quickly pushed the plate away and turned her head in a mixture of disgust and embarrassment, hoping that her husband hadn't noticed her strange behaviour.

She knew Raoul would be overjoyed with the news of her pregnancy, but she also knew it would worry him. By opting to recind his claim to the de Chagny estate was going to leave them in a perilous situation. She didn't know how much money Raoul had to his name independently of his family, and she knew that her pregancy would mean she'd soon be unable to sing or dance, or find any other type of employment.

"Is something wrong Lotte? Shall I ask cook to make you something else?", Raoul asked when he saw his wife abruptly push the plate away. He waited expectantly for his wife's response, his eyes soft with concern and worry. It was while he was waiting that Erik's solicitor had arrived at their door.

When the solicitor stated that Erik had signed over all royalties from any work he had written since leaving the Populaire equally between Christine and Raoul neither of the de Chagny's knew how to react. Christine had felt faint and needed to grip the side of Raoul's desk for support and Raoul had collapsed back into his chair. Erik's instruction meant that Raoul and Christine wouldn't be subject to the de Chagny family estate and would be independently wealthy enough to forge their own future.

Raoul had been torn between accepting Erik's bequest and rejecting it out of lrinciple. The value shouldn't have influenced him, yet the desire to free himself from his family's shackles was overwhelming. Christine could see her husband's dilemma; he wasn't an overly proud man, but he had be raised to be a member of high society and the ruling elite. He had been conditioned from an early age to give charity and not receive it, and she knew he would view Erik's actions as charity. Christine on the other hand had been fairly dependant upon charity for a large portion of her life, having relied on the goodwill of others following her father's death. Erik had helped her while she was grieving, he had taught her to sing, and he had been one of her only friends when she was alone. He had helped her discover her passion for performing, her voice and her own identity, and she knew this financial gift was another way of him helping her further.

"It's an apology Raoul", she had spoken softly placing her hand on his shoulder, "it isn't charity - it's reparations". She knew, and understood, that Raoul would be dubious of Erik's intentions if she told him the composer was helping, so she thought it best to out it into terminology her husband would understand: debt and reparations.

Raoul was no fool, he knew that Erik had given them a substantial sum of money so that Christine could be free of his family and that "reparations" was Christine's way of trying to bandage Raoul's wounded pride. He wasn't sure if his wife really believed that Erik was repaying them for any hurt and discomfort he had caused, but he understood the money would provide them with a better life.

\--xxx--

Antionette had been woken by an exasperated Nadir banging furiously against her bedroom door. Annoyed by the early wakening she had donned her robe and angrily opened the door.

"There are far more pleasant ways to wake someone Nadir - you could've asked one of the servants", she stated coldly folding her arms across her chest defensively holding her head high.

"Erik is gone"

Panic rose in Antionette immediately. She wasn't overly concerned about Erik as he had demonstrated time and time again that he could fend for himself, her concerns was for Meg. The de Chagny's had been clear that if Erik vanished then Meg would have to pay for her role in his crimes.

"And so is Oliver. I found Poole unconscious in the hall. It seems Erik chloroformed him", the Persian added quickly. "He left me this note"

Frustrated with Nadir's lack of elaboration Antionette snatched the paper from his hand. Erik had left her the deed to his house and Nadir a substantial sum of money. Plus a post-script stating he would ensure Meg's safety.

\--xxx--

The night Erik vanished he had visited the Comte and doweger Comtess de Chagny in their hotel. It was ostentatious, poorly designed, and in Erik's opinion it was quite tasteless. He chuckled to himself when he entered the foyer, amused that two people would chose a hotel that so aptly suited their own personalities.

The meeting had been arranged by an intermediary which didn't ease his nerves and expectation that he was soon to be arrested. So he was surprised to find that the only two people present in the suite was Philippe and his mother.

Erik though about the letters he held in his possesion - expensive and difficult to find - but hopefully worth the hassle.

"You are to leave Christine and Raoul alone. They don't need your money forour intereference".

"And if I don't" Philippe replied in a nonchalant and dismissive tone,

"Then I have some letters in my possession that may be of interest to those in your society circle. They are from the Marquis de Sade"

Philippe's face paled at the mention of the Marquis, and his body language almost immediately switched from assertive to concerned.

Ignoring the Comte's sudden change in demeanour Erik continued, "I have ensured that your brother and his wife will remain financially ndependent from you. You will leave them alone".

"And if I dont?", Philippe asked

"These letters will find their way to the papers and your buisness associates", he replied waving them before adding, "You are also alsleave Meg Giry alone".

Both the Comte and doweger Comtess laughed at the mention of Meg.

"We dont care about that chit" the doweger interceeded, "she is a means to an end"

"Good", Erik replied, "you are also to leave myself and the boy Oliver be. He will return to the USA and I will dissappear".

"The foolish boy can go", Philippe stated, "but Monsieur Phantom, I have a job for you and when it is completed you will be a free man, and pardoned by the President".


	51. LI: Five Years Later

**_Five years later.._**.

Erik had been back in England for almost a month, and had primarily spent his time observing both Marguerite André and Christine de Chagny.

He had almost not enquired after either woman, having not intended in staying in England for more than a week, but once he saw Christine as a headliner he was compelled to investigate the state of her career and the wellbeing of her family. He knew Christine thrived on performing but had half expected her to have disappeared from the stage once her child had been born, but contrary to his presumption she had continued performing even though she was clearly expecting another child.

It had been Meg's absence from the theatre that had intrigued him the most. Gilles André had clearly loved the arts, so Erik found it hard to comprehend why Meg would have ceased to perform. Simulary to Christine , performing was Meg's creative outlet and she wouldn't have married a man who refused to let her endulge her passion. It had only takonlErik an hour to discover the cause of her absence: Gilles André had died from apoplexy almost a year before Erik had returned and Meg was in mourning. Even though he understood it was a societial expectation for Meg to mourn he rhusband for a full year, he found it odd that she had chosen to eager in such behaviour. He didn't know André well, but he knew enough about the man to know he would not have wanted Meg to cease dancing upon his death as he wouldn't have wanted to crush her spirit. Erik assumed the same could be said about Meg's mourning clothes or declining invitations, for he knew that André was a progressive sort.

During his time away Erik had pondered his feelings towards both Meg and Christine; his feelings for both having remained complicated for many months once he had returned to France. One night he had managed to slip past his chaperones and had visited the Opera house and his home by the lake, having hoped that he could lay the ghosts of the past finally to rest. He was surprised to find that his home hadn't been looted in its entirity, instead many things had been broken and destroyed. Making his way through the narrow hallway, noting the torn tapestries and paintings, he entered his bedroom and was relieved to find the Persian rug still in situ. He rolled it aside and was relieved to find the small compartment hidden underneath and its contents remained untouched. Having slid away the lid he was faced with a pile of thick parchment with yellow edges: all his composisitions that were in one way or another related to Christine.

Erik returned an overturned chair to an upright position and began to hum tune after tune, starting at the bottom of the pile and working his way to the top. As he hummed he felt his heart rate begin to increase and the sting of tears beginning to taunt his eyes, his throat becoming strained as he tried to hold in his sobs. Each piece told of his decent into madness, and how his concern for his protegé's wellbeing had became an outright obsession. As he neared the top of the pile his hands began to shake, he knew the last pieces had been written at the height of his madness and when he saw the jaggered notes he threw the work away from him. Although the work was genius, it was certainly the work of a madman.

He didn't know how long he sat with only one candle to illuminate the damp, dark room thinking about the events of his last night in his home by the lake. While it had been his refuge he had ensured it was heated and ventilated, limiting the condensation and the dampness, but now it was nothing more then an overly decorated and empty cavern.

Before he had left England he had told Christine his feelings for her had always been paternal and he had become confused, but looking at his music he knew that wasn't entirely true. He had told Christine he did not have romantic feelings for her because he was once again releasing her from his grasp and his spell; he was trying to be a better man by was making a sacrifice for someone he loved. He had resigned himself to watching her from afar and he would try to be happy for her growing family. Although that had been his intention, once he had spoken the words he found that he held no resentment towards the budding family - in fact he was proud. Christine looked happy, she was having a child and she was able to perform, and although she didn't know it at the time, the rights and money he had bequeathed to her and the Vicomte would ensure they lived a comfortable life. Erik had never experienced paternal love, but he had concluded that was how he felt. What he had intended as a lie was in fact the truth.

He had understood Meg's reluctance to engage in a romantic relationship with him, as until the moment of his revelation regarding Christine he believed he held romantic inclinations for both women and that his lack of burning serial desire for Christine in comparison to Meg was because Christine was angelic and Meg was Earthly. Meg, unlike Christine, had never seemed deterred by his appearance but instead had made frequent comments about not being a consolation prize and that she deserved to be loved by someone who would give their heart in its entirity. She would also mention her heart being unable to cope with his erratic behaviour towards her, but what he didn't understand was why she rejected his declarations of love and his genuine proposal. All he had wanted was to keep her safe.

Erik saw Meg as his constant: she had built upon the compassion Christine had shown him and helped him learn that he could be a better man. He wanted to keep her safe and return her kindness and affection. He knew Raoul would protect Christine, but he wanted to protect Until the night he had proposed he believed Meg had no one.

The night Erik had gone to Meg's flat and explained spousal privilege he had been rejected in favour of Gilles André, a man who Meg had spent months claiming their relationship was nothing more than friendship. He had immediately responded to his internal rage caused by the rejection and Meg's lies with harsh names and accusations, accusing the dancer of toying with his emotions and acting like a "2 penny whore". He hadn't meant his words, but after a few protestations Meg had fallen silent and stood stoic. Unable to get a response from her he had left, not witnessing the blonde woman crumble to the floor and cry silent tears.

His anger had dissipated as soon as he had left Meg's building and a sense eof guilt had returned. Once again he had treated Meg poorly and acted as though she was the cause of his pain, but in reality he had created the situation himself. When he had sat in his former home in Paris he had thought about their interactions and reached the conclusion that he would be a better man: he would try to be happy for her and allow her to be happy with André. Now that André had passed Erik felt compelled to ensure that Meg was safe and happy. Once he was certain of that he would be on his way to New York to make his triumphant return to the world's stage.

\--xxx--

Meg had been woken by the howel of the wind, causing her to pull her blankets tighter as though they would shield her from the noise. It had been several years since a storm had woken her, but uncharacteristicly she had been sleeping lightly that night. It had taken her several hours to fall asleep, her mind filled with both eager anticipation and also reluctane for the new day and the newest chapter in her life.

She knew she hadn't fallen asleep before midnight as (not for the first time) she had heard the light footsteps of the housemaid, followed by heavier ones, pass her door - something she knew happened in the very early hours of the morning. Gilles would never have allowed such behaviour from the servants, and would've, like Raoul and Christine, stipulated that if their staff stepped-out with anyone the would find themselves unemployed. Meg found the idea of dictating their employee's lives distasteful, and had refused to employ anyone on such terms. Instead they had agreed that what their staff did on their day off was none of their concern, as long as they didn't break the law. Gilles would have argued that the housemaid and the footman (whom Meg assumed was the heavier footed gentleman) were not on their day-off and were therefore being disrespectful , but Meg didn't resent the couple's rendezvous and instead continued to over look the behaviour.

The air in her bedroom still had the night chill, and as the fire hadn't been lit she knew it was several hours before dawn.

Once her eyes had adjusted to the darkness Meg rolled over and felt for her matches and candle, watching with fascination when the flame ignited the wick. Although the house had electric lighting and several gas lamps Gilles had insisted that candles remained at their bedsides. Meg understood his apprehension as she had seen the damage a spilled gas lamp could do, and she certainly didn't want her home engulfed in flames.

Shielding the flame from her movements Meg made her way to the bay window and pulled back one of the curtains to look across the courtyard and survey for any damage done by the storm. She carefully placed her candle on the windowsill and looked across the dark courtyard at the other houses in her crescent. She could see the faint candlelight emanating from some of the loft rooms obviously caused by servants, but beyond that the street was still. She focused on the condensation forming upon the pane along the lower sash and wiped it away with her hand, immediately surprised by the cold yet refreshing feeling of the glass.

Meg rested her forehead again the cold pane and closed her eyes while taking deep calming breaths. Her mind had been reeling for hours, she felt wracked with guilt due to her budding excitement and also nervous with anticipation; the two feelings culminating in with an increased heartbeat and nausea. She was excited for the new chapter of her life, but found the finality of the day had brought her grief once again to the surface. Today was the day she could start living again, but she wasn't sure if she could - or if - she wanted to.

From Erik's vantage point he could see Meg's silhouette against the dim glow of the candlelight He was too far to see any specific details, especially with regular drips from the rain dropping from his fedora across his eyeline, but he did see her open the large bedroom window and climb onto the canopy. His breath caught in his throat and he saw her wobble as she fought to keep her balance against the thrusts of wind before sitting in the rain.

Silently Erik moved closer, not once taking his eyes off Meg's silhouette, his heart pounding in his chest as he approached her. He couldn't understand what she was doing; he had initially thought she was going to jump, but instead she was sitting in her nightdress in the middle of a storm. She would certainly become unwell if she didn't go inside soon and dry herself sufficiently. Erik wanted to scold her for her foolishness and then embrace her to share whatever warmth he had, but instead he hung back in the shadows and evaluated the situation looking for scenarios in case she fell. Looking at her positioning and the canopy of the bay window he couldn't see how she would accidently fall - the only cause would be if she jumped. He watched her with an eagled eyed focus as she stood and made her way to the balasatde, her blonde hair now plastered to her skin and nightgown clinging to her form as he moved forward hurriedly to posisition himself to break her fall. He waited for he scream, he waited for the sounds of her fall, but none came. Instead he heard her plea for guidance before he heard the thud of the closing window

\--xxx--

It had been several months since Meg had dined with Christine and Raoul, with mourning etiquette preventing her from socialising outside of her home and her friend's current condition limiting her ability to travel.

Although Meg was now free from her mourning clothes she had opted for a dark navy dress with a black lace trim. She wa since again allowed to wear a variety if colours, yet her discrepant emotions prevented her from entirely letting go.

The dinner itself was a fairly mundane affair, much more steeped in etiquette than the last time they had dined at the de Chagny household. Meg had been irritated by the presence of two unknown men who monopolised Raoul's time with mundane talk about horse racing and cards, Meg had wanted to spend time alone with her friends but instead she was being subjected to Christine's aberrant matchmaking.

"So, what do you think of Bertie", Christine asked eagerly once she and Meg had retired to the parlour ti allow the men to smoke and discuss politics.

"I think that my mourning period only ended yesterday", Meg responded dryly whilw pretending to admire a rather dull painting of a French navel ship

Christine shifted uncomfortably having not expected such a response, and muttered a quiet apology, "I just want you to be happy", she added

Meg realising the harshness of her previous tone and her friend's good intentions added her own apology, "I know, I am sorry. I'm just confused" before collapsong onto a chair and putting her head in her hands "I am excited to start my new job, but I feel guilty for feeling that way"

"Why? I don't understand", her friend responded kneeling in front of her and taking her hands.

Looking up Meg gave a half-hearted smile. Christine was such a kind soul, she understood why men were enticed by her and her angelic aura. She bit her lip wondering whether she should divulge her darkest secret or continue to carry the burden. Before she had a chance to stop herself she felt tears run down her face,

"Meg, what is wrong?"

"I'm happy but I shouldn't be" she said quietly, refusing to meet her friend's eyes, "I shouldn't be happy when Gilles is gone".

"Oh Meg!" Christine cried as she engulfed her friend in a tight embrace, "Gilles would be so proud of you. He wouldn't want you to be unhappy. What would he say about your job?"

Meg wiped her eyes and sniffed deeply, "that he was proud and happy for me"

"Exactly", Christine replied gently patting her friend's hand, "and do you think he would want your to mourn forever?"

"No"

"And is that why you are still wearing a dark dress?"

Meg nodded solemnly.

"Oh, you poor thing", Christine embraced her again, "I'm so sorry I haven't been here for you"

\--xxx--

Meg spent the next two weeks adjusting to her new situation, and on Christine's insistence she began to reintriduce more brightly coloured items into her wardrobe. She knew Christine was right, Gilles would have been proud of her and wanted her to be happy, but a year of mourning woth the rules around socialising and performaning had taken its toll.

It had been after another dinner at the de Chagny's that things had taken an unexpected turn. Once again one of Raoul's friends was present, this time a man called Reggie, but he had spent more time conversing with Meg then with either of their hosts. Although she wasn't looking for romantic entanglements she had been througherly enjoying herself until Reggie had shown a lack of respect to her profession. She had been expressing her enjoyment of her new role - assistant choreographer at the Royal Ballet - when it became clear that the pair were not compatible

"Do you not think it disrespectful to return to a job your dear departed husband saved you from?", Reggie asked while they were eating a dessert of sorbet.

His question caused everyone to stare at him opened mouthed, shocked by his disrespectful attitude towards both Meg and Christine.

Meg rose to her feet and angrily replied, "do not dare to assume what my husband would or would not have approved of. He was a kind and respectful man who encouraged my career and would have been overjoyed by my new role", before turning to look at her friends, "I just leave you now, for I cannot spend time in this man's company a moment longer". She had chosen not to use the moniker of 'gentleman' to insult him, but if he noticed or cared he failed to show it.

Ever the gentleman Raoul had insisted she take the de Chagny carriage home, and as it rocked gently over the newly oaved road she began to feel herself lull towards sleep. When she reopened her eyes she opened her mouth to scream in response to the dark figure sitting opposite, but was silenced by a large gloved hand.

"Shhhh Marguerite- it is only I", Erik spoke in a hushed tone as he removed his hand,

"Erik?", Meg asked almost not believing that the mask man was sitting in front of her, and as soon as he nodded her hand hit the side of his face,

"Anyone else and - " he started

"I'd be dead. I know" she finished as a broad smile appeared on her face before quickly disappearing into a scornful frown. "How dare you leave and appear like this! I was sick with worry about you. Where have you been?"

"France", he said dismissively, "working for the President"

Meg raised her eyebrows questioningly, only to be handed a piece of paper in response.

"Read it",

Meg opened the paper and almost dropped it in shock, "how did you get a pardon from the President?"

"That, my dear, is a story for another time".

\--xxx--

Over the following month Meg would meet Erik for lunch and evening strolls, neither speaking of the events that had occurred in Meg's flat before Erik had vanished. That night remained the elephant in the room. Instead Meg would speak of her job at the Royal Ballet and how it was a dream come true and Erik would outline his upcoming production in New York and how it would herald his return. On occasion they spoke about Antionette and Nadir, both joking about how Anglicised her mother had become and how Nador had taken on the role of her uninvited chaperone.

"I think he has a soft spot for her", Meg had commented done afternoon while they were strolling in St. James' Park, "I've told her that is why he is always near. He is like a moth to a flame, with her being the flame"

Erik had merely nodded in agreement and wondered whether it was time to pay his Persian friend a visit to tease and torment him about his apparent infatuation.

Erik had been pushing back his return to America, claiming he had unfinished buisness in London that requires his personal attention, but in reality he was enjoying spending time with Meg. He knew that in order for either of them to have some form of closure, the elephant would need to be discussed. He had planned on bringing up his rejected proposal and his harsh words one Friday afternoon, but his plans had been changed when it had started to rain. As neither had an umbrella they had ran for shelter beneath a large oak tree, where Meg remained while Erik fetched them a cab. The couple didn't normally ride together, the unspoken tensions caused by that night five and a half years ago causing a heavy tension to hang in the air. They had both been enjoying their time together, reminding them both of a friendship that had been irreparably damaged by more complicated feelings and deep seated emotions.

After a long period of painful silence Erik finally spoke as he leaned forward and took her hands, "I missed you. I thought about you everyday"

Meg closed her eyes, willing that history not repeat itself, before pulling her hands away. "I've told you before - I'm not a consolation prize. I deserve to be loved for me"

A grimace of annoyance flashed over Erik's face before he sat tall and gave a stoic expression and spoke in an ominous voice she had not heard for years, "Would I not be your consolation prize? You are a widow after all"

"Because you've loved once doesn't mean you can't love again. The world would be a lonely place otherwise - our hearts being irreparable after one love affair. Yes, damage can be done, but the heart heals. Sometimes the wound leaves a scar that occasionally causes pain, but we can love more than once"

Erik's expression softened, "Then why can't you love me?"

Meg looked away from the man opposite and instead looked out of the window. There was nothing to look at, but it was a distraction and one that prevented her from realising the slip of her tounge, "I never said I don't love you"

They sat in silence for the rest of the journey to Meg's home, neither sure of what to say. Meg had missed Erik and he remained in her heart, and she had grown to love Gilles deeply. His death had shattered her heart, but she knew he would want her to be happy- that was why she had taken the job offer and that was why she continued to see Erik.

When the cab pulled up outside Meg's she quickly slid along the seats to the door, eager to leave the tension filled compartment and crawl into her bed to reflect upon the day. As she stepped out of the carriage Erik stilled her by taking her hand,

"If you love me, then why won't you allow me to court you?"

Slightly flustered the blonde dancer turned to face him, her response causing him to immediately drop her hand as though he had be scorched. "You never asked", she said quietly before hurrying away.

Erik sat in the carriage dumbfounded. She was right: he had never asked to court her. Their friendship had been strange, one forged out of convenience that progressed into a mixture of sexual desire and deep seated friendship. He loved her, and he had shown this affection by trying to protect her with a proposal, but he had never actually courted her and corse words, and eventually love. How had he been so foolfoolishness.

Realising what he must do Erik jumped from the carriage and hurried to the door. Upon the door's opening Erik pushed past the butler and ran up the stairs calling Meg's name.

Meg had gone to her room to change out of her wet clothes, but hearing the commotion outside she wrapped herself in a dressing gown and went to the landing.

"Erik? what on earth are you doing?" she asked upon seeing the dripping wet composer at the top of her stairs and a flustered butler behind him

"I'll call the peelers M'lady", he butler quickly added, "and call for help"

"No need, I know this man" she replied, but instead of leaving the butler backed away. He found the masked gentleman intimidating and untrustworthy, and was determined to bear witness to whatever was to occur as to protect his mistress' reputation and wellbeing.

"I would like your permission to court you", Erik stated, taking a step closer

"What?"

"I would like your -"

"I heard, I heard", he said, glancing nervously at the butler behind Erik and seeing the astonished look on her maid's face. "Erik, now is not the time for such a conversation"

Choosing to ignore her response Erik continued. He was determined to repair the damage that had been done to their relationship, "I am a fool Marguerite. I have been cruel with your emotions and treated you appallingly. I ask your forgiveness and for you to allow me the opportunity to court you. I am a free man. I have been pardoned. We wouldn't need to run or to lie"

"You are leaving for America in a couple of weeks", she responded unwilling to invest her emotions in something that was certain to end with a broken heart.

Understanding the meaning behind her words Erik quickly responded. He didn't want her to think that his next question was an after thought, for it had been on his mind since he made her aware of his presence. "Do I have a reason to stay in England?"

Meg's eyes widened as Erik approached her with an outreached hand to take hers.

"A friend once told me that we make sacrifices for the ones we love", he took a deep breath to garner the courage to ask again, "One word Marguerite: yes or no. That's all I ask of you", his eyes met hers. "Do I have a reason to stay?"

"Yes".

\--The End--

Thank you for reading. :)

My intention was to show forgiveness, acceptance and personal growth.

Erik's attitude at the end and his question shows personal growth.

The end is a start if a new relationship for them both.

Meg was happy with her husband and bow has an opportunity to forge a new relationship with Erik.

Christine is content and has her family and gets to perform. All thanks to Erik.

I might write earlier epilogue to.show where everyone is at, but it depends on whether people want that. **_Update- I will do this _**


	52. Epilogue

The sound of children's laughter carried through the air to the ears of the three women and one man sitting on the picnic blanket on the pebble beach.

"I don't understand why it's funny", Christine stated looking towards the red and white striped puppet theatre a few yards away,

"I know", Meg responded farrowing her brow, "why is there a crocodile and why does the big nosed puppet keep hitting people with a paddle?"

Nadir looked scornfully in the direction of the puppet show, "because the English have a very strange sense of humour"

"The children like it", Antionette added, to the surprise of the others, "as do your husbands" she gestured her head in the direction if Raoul and Erik standing side-by-side behind the rows of children, their shoulders moving in a way to indicate they were laughing.

"Then our husbands are imbeciles", Meg stated flatly before taking a bite of a sandwich

"Oh Meg, you know Erik isn't an imbecile" chirped Christine

"and Roaul?"

"Well -", her response caused the four adults to laugh loudly enough for both Erik and Raoul to turn round and look at them questioningly.

The group of friends had been spending the week at the popular seaside resort of Hastings on the south coast, primarily eating ice cream, walking along the promenade and watching the strange puppet show. It had been difficult for Meg to convince Erik to board the train and spend a week with the de Chagnys, having only convinced him when she promised she wouldn't pressure him to spend time with Raoul.

As the days passed it became clear that Raoul and Erik had more in common than either would admit. The majority of their holiday was spent playing games with the de Chagny children and watching the awfully strange puppet show. At first Meg thought Erik's fascination with it was ironic, but as the days passed and she watched him recreate scenes with Raoul for the children she came to realise he genuinely found it amusing.

"Why do.yiu like that puppet show so much?", Meg asked Erik on their final night away, "I don't understand why it is funny".

"There is violence. That is always good for a laugh", he replied while removing his wig,

"Erik - I know you're joking", she spoke while meeting his gaze in the mirror

He let out a hefty sigh, "I like seeing the children happy"

My smiled and embraced her husband from behind planting a chaste kiss on his cheek "We could always have our own" she said nervously, fully aware they had never discussed such an issue and half-expected him to recoil at the idea.

Instead and turned and swooped her into his arms, quickly walking to the bed. "Lets" he said with a playful grin.

\--xxx--

**_A/N: Thank you for reading._**

**_At some point I may go back and edit some bits - add some more detail on things etc. but it.would all stay pretty much the same._**

**_One thing I was thinking of doing was writing a short accompaniment of what Erik did in France to earn his pardon._**

**_Anyway, thank you again. _**


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